What Makes Us Wicked
by OutsiderRushheart
Summary: Logan finds Kendall, a boy with short-term memory lose in the streets of Detroit; broken both mentally and physically. With Logan's help, Kendall is slowly revived. But Logan's life is shroudded in a violent world that could tear them apart. Kogan, AU
1. Chapter 1

**I love this fic. Like a lot. So I hope it gets reviews ;) Part of the reason I love this because Kendall is the** innocentdamsalindistress **this time. And Jo doesn't really do anything terrible to anyone. More or less doesn't do anythng bad to Logan. Okay. I've said too much already. **

**Please read on.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>People who claim they're evil are usually no better than the rest of us. It's people who claim that they're good, or any way better than the rest of us that you have to be wary of."<em>

-Gregory Maguire, _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_

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><p>A sudden blast of wind ripped past my body sending chills down my spine. I pull my gray hoodie tighter against me. But no matter what the heat, a person who is frozen beyond reaching cannot ever feel warmth. I fist my hands and jam them into the hoodie pockets. Above head a streetlight flickers on and off weakly illuminating my pathway. I find it strange how there are hardly any cars driving along. This <em>is <em>Detroit. And even neon signs of bars and gift shops have been turned off. If I wasn't me I would've been anxious about this.

If I wasn't me I would've suspected I was alone.

The sound of an electric guitar cuts through my concentration. I reach a hand into my jeans pocket and pull out a cell phone that may or may not have been mine. Listless, I say halfheartedly, "Logan, speaking."

"Where the heck are you?"

Jo. "Nowhere. Just out walking."

"_Out walking! _Logan am I hearing you right?" Jo snaps. Her voice crackles through the speakers. I think I can make out a vaguely familiar male voice asking her a question in the background. "You should be back _here. _At the hideout!"

I shrug even though she won't see it. "Can't a guy get some fresh air? Who's there with you?"

"James," she answers so quickly that it could've been 'Jett.' "And _no! _Not with the situation you're in! Ya know; you've shown absolutely no gratitude to what we've done to keep _you're _ass safe."

"Hey is Stone there?" I want to know. She told me earlier that she'd be paying a visit to us. "Lucy Stone?"

"Logan!" Jo spat, "Have you listened to a word I've said?"

I open my mouth to speak but out of the corner of my eye I see something. It's only a glimpse, but in that glimpse I see a whole scene: An alleyway that leads no where and a body with blood pooling around it. "Hold that thought," I tell Jo.

"Bu-"

I hang up before getting a chance to hear what she planned on saying. Casually, I enter the alleyway, buildings that surround it casting dark shadows. As I get closer I see that there is a trail of blood from the dead end, to this body. Signs of attempted escape.

Signs of being dragged.

Without any hesitation, I lower myself right down next to the body-ignoring the puddle under me- and inspect it. I turn the body over and through all its blood I can identify a boy. Maybe a bit younger than me. I think his hair was supposed to be blonde. Or something close to blonde. It's plastered to his forehead and the position he's in makes his eyes invisible. I'm not sure where the source of this crimson mess began. This challenge to my knowledge of killing wounds is taunting. Watching his motionless form, I speculate. There's quite a bit of dried blood around his neck. I reach my hand out and rest my palm against it tenderly. I don't know why I bothered being gentle though. I trail my hand down his neck, moving it slowly up and down. There's a cut only a knife could create that starts at his right jawbone and ends at his left collarbone. His face is scratched and bruised. Also his chest. The way scarlet stains his T-shirt I can tell it was once a shade of gray. I slide my hand down from where it rested and lift my hand up from still oozing blood.

"Hmm," I murmur because there's no one to hear the evaluation running through my mind.

His limp arms have visibly ripped open skin- road burns-from when he was dragged. I let out a deep breath and on sudden impulse I reach out a brush hair away from his closed eyes. The 'blonde' boy is broken. No question, no 'looks'; he's. Just. Broken.

Another impulse causes makes me check if his still breathing. Pressing two fingers against his un-scared collar bone, I wait. And very faintly, something struggles beneath my touch. It is so exhausted however, that it may have been something created by one's imagination. I bite down hard on my bottom lip and pull out my cell phone again.

It rings, once. Twice. Three times... "Ready to _listen _now?" Jo sing-songs.

"Hey, can you or James come and pick me up?"

"From where?" Jo asks, annoyance edging her tired voice.

I shook my head. "Don't know. I'm near the old movie theater though. I think."

She doesn't answer for a few moments. I can hear her repeat what I say to James. "Fine. I'll be there. Why do you need me this time?"

"I found someone. He's barely alive."

Her ton changes into something cold, "I-Since when do you care whether someone dies or lives?"

I swallow. "Just get here."

This time Jo hangs up first.

I put my cell phone away again and glance over to him. "You're lucky," I whisper. "I could've ended you now if I wanted to." But I didn't. Why didn't I? "So...How did you end up like this?" It's said that people who are in a comma or are unconscious can hear when someone is talking to them. I answer my own question, "Oh, you probably ran into someone like me." I close my eyes for a brief second. "I'm not a good person," I laugh softly even if there's nothing funny about it. "And what makes it all truly evil of me...is that I don't even care. What makes a person like that..." I stare down at him thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed. "What makes _me _like this?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to."

I glance over my shoulder to see Jo with her arms crossed. "That was fast," I say.

"Well there weren't many people out so I sped over here, no big deal right? I do it all the time," Jo affirms, stalking over to my side. "Wow," she exhales. "And he's alive?"  
>"Like I said; barely. Where's your car?"<br>She jerks her thumb to the way she came. "Back there-just a little ways down the street."

"Great," I mutter, "Can you help me lift him?" Jo nods and walks around to his other side. Together we carry him to a dark blue Toyota Camry that may or may not have been Jo's, and set the blonde in the back seat.

"I never would've believed that you'd want to actually want to save someone," Jo admits as she starts the car. "Why do you care what happens to him?"

Why. Do. I. Care...

"Maybe when he wakes up he'll tell me who beat him and then I'll find that guy and eliminate the competition," I explain although I'm not sure if my answer makes sense.

"Eliminate...the competition..."Jo shakes her head and focuses on the roads ahead. "Whatever, Logan. Do whatever the heck you want. Like you always do." She drums her fingers on the wheel. "What do you plan do to with him once you've gotten the information?"

I glimpse over to the back seat where he lies, his blood beginning to stain the cushions. Something inside me aches. I've never felt this way-more or less I haven't felt this way in a long time. I could've just left him... "Let's just think of the now- and now I need to go to the hideout-I need to go home."

"Because the hideout is home," Jo states.

"Mmm, hmm."

And when we pull into the abandon street, up to somewhere that appears as if no one lives in it. "Yep...home sweet home," I grumble.

"You try to move him yourself for a sec; I'll go tell James to hold the door," Jo says, taking the keys and scrambling out of the car. She carefully pads down concrete stairs to the hidden door. I forget what I'm supposed to be doing until I hear a faint, faint whimper. He's waking up. Sooner than I would've calculated. With the way he was breathing-the way he was wounded I would've guessed he'd be sleeping through until tomorrow afternoon. I open the car door and lazily slide from the seat. I turn to close the door again but pause. There is slight discoloration to the gray leather. Probably from blood I brought with me. Other times. Not exactly my blood. I'm surprised Jo's never mentioned the stains.

I saunter idly around to the other side of the Camry. The side where his head is. I open the door and crouch down. "Hey," I say, placing my hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "C'mon. It would make it much easier if you woke up now, that way I won't have to drag-carry you in."

He doesn't move his head when his eyes open. They are full of a rain washed shade of emerald green. Somewhere in the fading color there is a lost looking yellow. And suddenly-for once- I don't feel like me.

"Logan!" Jo exclaims, again at my side in an instant. But just as instantly his eyes were open, they shut again.

I narrow my own eyes and look at him, head tilted ever so slightly. "Jo-does James have the door ready?"

"Uh-huh," Jo hums. "Obviously this guy is not getting up himself so...What?"

"Um; oh, nothing. It's nothing, what are you waiting for-come on," I unintentionally ramble. We hoist him out of the car and as we take him inside I remember his eyes and wonder when they'll reveal themselves again. Something inside me hopes it's soon...weird right?

My hideout-'home'-is not much. It's always dark no matter how many lights are on, windows forbidden. In perspective as to just entering, there is a box-in counter around a kitchen that can't possibly count as a kitchen. Crammed into the claustrophobic area is a medium sized silver fridge that's about as tall as me, cabinets and more counter space that border around to almost complete the square. After a break in cracked white tiles, the rest of the floor is of a snarled teal rug. Two feet or so away left from the door one of those box televisions is pressed up against wall, the only thing holding it up is a platform constructed by dictionaries and textbooks. I would've got a cabinet and flat screen but those are harder to sneak in. There was a coffee table- nothing much it could probably double as a foot rest-and couch- something out of those movies you see where a character sneaks into an abandon house and everything is far too dusty to tell anything's original color. My home had a chilling, unwelcoming atmosphere that screamed at instinct to turn around and break for it.

"Alright, let's uh set him down on the couch," I say.

James closes the door behind him. He crosses his arms over his chest and hovers around the back of the couch. "Why'd you bring him back here?"

Jo tells him before I can, "Logan wants to eliminate the competition."

James raised an eyebrow indignantly. "That guy's competition?"

"No, idiot," I hiss, backing away once we lay him down. "Whoever did _that"-_I motion to his damaged body- "is competition." I explain for the second time, "I'll get him to tell me who maimed him when he's woken up."

"And if he won't tell you?" James challenges.

"I'll just have to keep him hostage until he does; seems logical that he'll do what I request," I say, languid and vaguely aware of Jo's gaze set on me. Clearing my throat with an- 'eh-hem'- I loll my head to the side, unintentionally glaring at James. "I'd like to know why you were here anyways."

Through ignorant, accusing hazel orbs; I can see endlessly flowing anxiety. "Jo invited me here," he responds after a bit. "After she learned Carlos and I were having some trouble with Wayne-Wayne she figured you might know what to do about him."

Wayne-Wayne. In our world he was nothing but bark and no bite. I mean come on; even that name implies he'd get molested by a mere passerby. This wasn't the first time Diamond and Garcia were 'having trouble' with Wayne-Wayne. I snort, "Again? What's up this time? Did he steal one of your clients? Trace the tip of a knife around your pretty face?" I chuckle humorlessly. "No, wait. He's not _that _good. It would truly take an impossibly weak person to be tortured by him."

James lunged forward towards me, but I didn't flinch away. There wasn't anything to be frightened of. Towering over me, James seethes, "You _don't _know me. You don't know Carlos; or what Wayne-Wayne is capable of! If you're too busy destroying victims of your own then, the heck with it!"

I feel a smug grin enfold its way onto my face. "That's how you feel then?" I inquire. I can tell-his breath catches in his throat. James nods; the rest of his body frozen in place like a stone statue.

I am a male version of Medusa and him an unimportant Greek peasant.

"Then don't come back here. If you ever show your face again I will personally send Detroit's _best _after you or so be it I'll make sure the job gets done myself." It was a lame-empty threat (definitely not my best). But it scared him enough.

James bows his head and scurries past me and hurries out the door. I look to the opposite end of the couch. Jo has her eyes closed. Her hands are fists at her sides. "Need a beer or something?" I ask.

"Logan!" She spat, eyes shooting open.

"What?" I say sarcastically. "If I know Stone when she get's here-"

Jo frowns, skeptical. "Lucy is coming here too?"  
>"Yes. I thought we established that earlier."<p>

She looks off to somewhere past me. "Lucy's bad news I hear."

"I'm said bad news but you still hang around me," I point out.

"We've been though a lot," Jo replies, focusing back on me.

It's true. Before everything we were each other's only friend. Classic, huh? Every morning we'd make sure the other was okay because in Detroit you never know what could happen; after school we'd walk with each other back to our apartment. Every night we'd go to either's suite and work on homework or study. Both our one parents worked late. On weekends we would run around the streets and role-play as criminal and police, burst out singing at random times to see how many people would start yelling at us... Simple things that a friendship like that came up with...I remember how Jo began to avoid me in school and how she'd never talk unless requested to by a teacher. I remember how she started ditching school and walking back to the apartment alone...I guess I was concerned because once after school I hurried up to her room to see if she was okay. The door creaked open by itself the way it would in a horror movie. I highly expected to hear some jump out and scream, 'don't go in the room, Logan!' But even when I was hardly me, I sucked in my gut and advanced onward in no way prepared for what was about to change everything. There was a man-I think in his late twenties. I hate to remember because then the image is trapped in my mind for unidentifiably periods of time. But I do remember this: Sending a knife into his heart.

And there was so much more to our history.

"Yeah," I agree solemnly. "We have a weird relationship," I say for no reason in particular.

"Weird? How so?"

I shrug because it was one of those things you said because it just seemed fitting. "No one would've guessed we were best friends," I offer.

"Maybe," Jo says.

"Someone told me they thought we were friends with benefits."

Jo snorts in a kinda disgruntled way. "Who said that?"  
>"Mmm...Heather Fox?" I can't be too sure.<p>

"Ah. Remind me to talk to her."

"Got it," I say. There's a silence between us. "Well...if you don't wanna risk running into Lucy then you may want to go," I suggest.

Jo nods. "Right." She pauses at the door. "I'll see you...sometime. Bye, Logan."

And she's gone before I can say 'bye' back. I sigh something that doesn't sound like me and go to my bedroom. It's unfitting in my horror film-esc home. It's something quaint like a modern take on a bedroom from _The Little House on the Prairie. _A folding closet on the right wall hasn't got much variety in it. I walk over to it and grab a random T-shirt and fresh pair of boxers before heading to the bathroom. The bathroom is a short turn to the left of my room. It doesn't fit in my home either. With its pale yellow square tiles and white painted walls it's like I've entered the bathroom belonging to a young school teacher. There's a sink bolted to the wall in the left corner, a rectangle mirror a bit higher to the right. There's a small cabinet on the sink's other side that holds a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a mini first aid kit I found on the street once. Randomly in the middle of the room is a good old fashioned round oval bathtub with an attached shower and surrounding curtain.

I'm about to turn the water on when I hear that same whimper again. But I'm unsure as to whether he's worth checking up on. I make up my mind. Setting down my sleep-wear or whatever- the term 'pajamas' is so overrated- I strode back into the main room (because it can't possibly count as a living room). I walk around to the front of the couch and crouch in from of him. His eyes are closed but I know he's alive.

"You wanna tell me your name?" I ask first because there's something odd about constantly referring to someone as, 'him' or 'he' and vise versa for girls. He shifts slightly and I hold my breath, waiting to see if he'll at least open his eyes.

And he does.

Those sad, sad pale green eyes flutter open. "There, that's one step in the right direction," I say softly...I don't want to scare him by coming on too strong. "Now, can you talk?"

He just stares at me unblinking for a few seconds before folding his head to his chest and curling into an almost fetal position. I watch him as he closes up again. "Okay," I sigh. "I'm going to shower then I'll be heading to bed if you need anything."

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><p>I think.<p>

I think I hear him.

Again.

I roll over in my bed and read the digital clock on my bedside table.

**1: 05**

And I guess that's too early to sleep for me.

But for Mr. No Name I'm not sure.

I'm guessing he's the kind of teen who crashes at eleven or something earlier. Then why'd he be awake?

Is it something to do with the pain?

I can't think right now.

It sounds more like crying.

I can't think.

The last time someone cried like that.

I can't.

Was Jo when I found her with the twenty year-old.

I

And I'm up again going to check on him.

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><p>I turn on the lamp by the end of the couch. I do it so hastily that it shakes the side table beneath it. I stand for a bit, shifting my weight from side to side by changing my footing. I once again go down to eye level with him. There are tears sliding down his scratched up face. My hand is all of a sudden on his shoulder. His eyes are half open.<p>

"Can't sleep?" I say. "Same here." I think hard. And I pull something from deep in my memory. Something that's been boxed away and shoved far into the back of my almost abandon right brain."You know when I was young...six..." I shake my head. "It was so long ago. I used to have nightmares every night. My mom would...She would sometimes sing to me before I went to sleep. Now it wasn't any boring old lullabies that she would sing; no they would be those slow kinds of ballads that couples would dance to at their prom." I felt the smile that had form, fade again. "Why am I even telling you this..." I ponder for a moment.

Then I have it.

Being me I should've gotten it quicker. "Alright, buddy," I say sounding oddly like Harry from _Home Alone. _"I am going to try to make you fall asleep." He opens one of his eyes and I see a distant, suspicious glint in it. "Um, I don't have any music or whatever" -neither did my mom- "So we're going to have to make do without it. I'll warn you, I don't sing much I may sound awful; just warning ya."

I search through my right brain again- through another ancient box- for a song I may have heard somewhere on the radio. Somewhere while in a store. Somewhere... And I drag out something that Jo played a lot at her apartment. I clear my throat and mentally prepare to do something that was past its expiration on my personality...

"_Slow down, you crazy child; you're so ambitious for a juvenile, but then if you're so smart then tell me why are you still so afraid? Where's the fire? What's the hurry about; you better cool it off before you burn it out, you've got so much to do and only so may hours in a day..." _

My own voice startles me. Am I really me now? This doesn't feel like me.

"_But you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want or you can just get old; you're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through, oooh...when will you realize, Vienna waits for you..." _I sing. His green gaze is now fully on me. "_Slow down, you're doing fine; you can't be everything you wanna be before your time; although it's so romantic on the borderline, tonight, tonight...too bad, it's the life you lead, you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need; you can see when you're wrong you know you can't always see when you're right...you're right...you got your passion, you got your pride; but don't you know that only fools are satisfied...dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true, oooh...when will you realize, Vienna waits for you..."_

He's falling asleep but at the same time remains content. I continue steadily, "_Slow down, you crazy child and take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while; it's alright, you can't afford to loose a day or two... oooh...when will you realize, Vienna waits for you...And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want or you can just get old; you're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through, mmm... why don't you realize, Vienna waits for you... when will you realize, Vienna waits for you..."_

He struggles to stay awake, I can tell it. I reach upward and grab the red and black plaid blanket off the back of the couch, covering him. "Billy Joel plus my mom's old technique wouldn't fail-don't fight it," I sigh. He seems to settle and I wait until I'm sure he's asleep before whispering, "Goodnight."

It sounds strange coming out of my mouth. I don't say 'goodnight' unless it's cold and sarcastic. I don't say 'goodnight' unless-

"Thank you," he says. He's so quiet it's almost as if he hadn't spoken at all.

But it was there.

It was undeniably there.

And I say at an equally as inaudible level, "You're welcome."

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><p>I wasn't me now<p>

I was a zoomed out imagine watching from a distance

I wasn't me

I was someone watching a memory of me

I wasn't

I was watching a movie in black and white

I

I was a black and white picture

And

I

Was

Nothing

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><p>This is a dream.<p>

I'm dreaming.

I _have _to be dreaming.

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><p><strong>Like I said; I LOVE this fanfic...hope you do to, please review! Should I continue? Yes? No?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>...Too long I've been afraid of, loosing love I guess I lost; well if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost..."<em>

_-_Elphaba Thropp, _Wicked: A New Musical_

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><p>A sweet voice sings somewhere distant.<p>

Another meeting runs over.

A child sits alone at home.

Another night with no one.

A police siren cries out.

Another crime has been committed.

A call is made.

Another life has been taken.

This is my nightmare.

Forever

On repeat

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><p>Yawning, I stretch my arms, taking a brief moment to enjoy that strange tingling sensation you get when you wake up. It takes a bit for my vision to focus. I don't want to be awake but it's that feeling that tells you, you have to that allows me to. I remind myself that there's someone else here besides me and go to see if he's awake. I enter the main room and feel oddly lonely even though I'm not alone. I lean against the armrest of the couch, neither sitting nor standing. Maybe...I reach my hand down, trailing it over his neck-oddly loving the strange bumpy feeling of a forming scar-until reaching his pulse point. It's stronger now than it was last night.<p>

"Great..." I say out loud. Why though. Why was this 'great'? Then I remember my oh so malevolent scheme.

"Hmm..."

I blink and in that brief second he's shifted his position so that he is propped up on an elbow, looking up at me. His green eyes are resilient in a shattered, unadulterated way. His stained cheeks have trails of tears running down them. "You're awake," I aver. "Gonna talk now?" I half frown when he doesn't speak. "Okay. Alright. Have it your way, I know you can talk. You'll do it again eventually." I notice, more or less are reminded that he's still covered in blood. It's dried now but still... "Uh, if you want to take a shower or something its back there-" I jerk my head back behind the couch- "And I'll find you something else to wear if you want. Blood stains pretty bad so I'm not sure about your old clothes." I realize it after I spoke.

Slapping my forehead I say, "I don't know if you can walk because Jo and I have carried you all this time. Sheesh, I didn't even check for broken bones."

He scuffles under the blanket until it slides off his body when he sits up completely. He pushes the rest of it to the corner of the couch and swings his legs over and rises. And wow. Why.

Why does he have to be taller me?

It's like only one inch but still.

"No broken bones..." the blonde whispers. I'm not really sure what exactly his voice sounds like, it's too soft spoken.

"Oh..." Something on impulse makes me joke, "And you let me carry you around?" I guess it still sounds sarcastic. At least. It assures me I'm still me. "Are you...are you in any pain?" I ask awkwardly.

He's quiet. Almost more so than he was when I first found him.

I take it as a yes.

I instantly conjure an idea. I don't think it's very appropriate though. "Do you need help?"

I think he's blushing but I can't tell because of that pesky dried blood.

And that same cell phone that may or may not be mine rings from where it still remains nestled in my hoodie pocket. I reach over to the coffee table where it was lazily draped over. When I retrieve it I find that it is Jo again.

"Hold on," I say to the blonde before pacing away towards my bedroom. "What, Jo?" I inquire, answering her call.

"Just wondering, uh how he's doing," she says.

"Well. He's awake, and I think he can talk. Hasn't said much though, I still don't know his name," I update her.

"So I guess that means you haven't gotten the information yet."

"What." I slapped my own forehead. Stupid... "I mean-no. Not yet." Jo's line goes eerily quiet. "Jo?" I say.

"Oh! Um, someone's trying to cut in"-another pause-"Can I call you back?" There's something in her voice that's light. Excited.

I try to keep out the suspicion that naturally takes over when I'm unsure as I answer, "Sure." And before I can ask, 'who is it'; Jo hangs up.

I throw the phone onto my bed before stalking back into the (hardly) living room. The blonde hasn't moved from where he stood. He's glancing around my war-hideout like home. I try to tell what he's thinking by observing his movements but it's almost as if he's an unreachable creature on another planet.

"C'mon," I exclaim, rolling my eyes. "Obviously you aren't going to do it yourself so..."- I nod towards the bathroom door-"...It 'ta, shouldn't be too embarrassing, we're both guys."

His gaze moves so it locks with mine. Two opposite forces of nature acknowledging each other for the first time in such a way that it could cause a deadly explosion.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>I search my closet until uncovering a maroon sweatshirt, pair of pale gray sweatpants, and boxers. "Here, borrow my clothes for now; yours won't be clean again, blood stains terribly," I say, turning around to face him. He's sitting on the end of the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. I still can't officially dub him blonde because when hair is wet it's darker.<p>

There's a knock. Someone's here.

"I'll be right back," I say, placing the clothes next to him. "Don't leave this room." I instruct over my shoulder, not completely finishing my sentence when I close the door. I reach the entrance quickly and curse myself for not having a peep hole. My hand hovers over the door knob.

"It's Lucy!" A muffled voice snaps from the other side.

"Stone?" I confirm.

"No, Lucy Ricardo; yes, Lucy Stone!"

I hesitantly cast a glance to wear the blonde is hidden away. Then I let Lucy in. She hasn't changed a bit. Her dark-almost black hair is still streaked with bright red; a sign of rebellion when she was a young child. Her eyes still gleam in a way that judges you before she gets to know you. And her lips are still pulled into their permanent frown.

"I'm here to make a deal with you," Lucy states. Her voice sounds like it is behind me. I turn around and see her plopped down on my couch, one leg folded over the other. When did she go inside? I don't remember her going past me.

"What deal?" I ask, shutting the door hard so it slams.

Lucy leans back against the cushions. "There are two new police on the force. They're both in their mid-twenties. One girl. One guy. The girl, she's been on my case ever since she found my DNA at a car high-jacking crime scene."

"You want me to do something about this new cop."

"I would myself but I've got something to deal with else where," She says.

I narrow my eyes and pace around to the back of the couch. "And what do you expect me to do? You know I can't do anything to them these days."

"Oh, what? Is the great Logan Mitchell scared?" Lucy hisses.

I smile and reach down. I grab her shoulders and turn her so she's looking at me. "Don't try that. You know it won't do anything to me." She remains unfazed, but I know she's shivering inside. I say, "Okay. You find out more about where this cop lives and I'll do something then. But now." I shove upward on her back, making her stagger to her feet. "Go."

"What will you do while I'm risking my own freedom sneaking around?" Lucy demands. "Stay here under your rock while everyone else in Disturbia frisks around for _you_?" She challenges.

Disturbia was a rather strong way to describe it. But very accurate none the less. "Yes," I say.

Lucy opens her mouth to think but must've thought better of it. She storms to the door and slips away like a python in its natural habitat. Moving silently from one location to the other. I eye the door for moments longer, for the first time noticing every splinter-threatening slit in it. It looks as if there must have been a battle between the door and a starving cat.

And the cat must've won.

I think about my own battles. The only one I am truly at war at is myself. Not the police; nor any other in 'Disturbia.' It is

Me

Myself

And

I

I am the only one who can tear me down, and I am the only one who can build me up.

I am a force to be reckoned with.

No one; and I repeat _no one, _is ever gonna bring me down. _Never. _

I am as clever as a fox and calculating as Hitler.

Perhaps that is why I cannot love anyone.

I am the Wicked Witch of the West without her intended good deeds.

I had once thought I loved Jo, but that was far back when I was not me.

I am the Huntsman and everyone around is my Snow White.

That was back when I didn't know the darker side of the moon.

Like my father told me after that faithful night with his fist clenched and tears streaming: Love does not exist. Not here. Not anywhere.

I kept waiting for him to say, 'kidding, your mother would want me to be kidding,' but that doesn't happen in real life. He went cold, and so...I did as well. I never felt warm again.

. "L-Logan..."

I jolt with a start at the voice and turn on my heels. The blonde stands few feet from the door, now fully clothed. He rubs a hand up and down his opposite upper arm. A sign of constant discomfort through his life.

I know he probably caught on to my name so I don't ask how he knows it. Instead I think of ribs visible through scar swathed skin. "Are you hungry?" I ask. "You can go get something from the fridge." I jerk my thumb to the box-kitchen. I don't wait for him to answer. "Hold on a sec." I walk slowly to the fridge and as I approach notice how lonely it looks. No magnets, no forms, no nothing. It matches the theme of my home and me. I carelessly draw three empires and cradle them in my arms so I won't drop them. He'll need more, but these apples will have to do. I set them onto the coffee table, making a barrier for a half a second to stabilize the apples. "Okay, I'll venture through the cabinets later but for now...hope you like empire apples."

"Why are you doing this?" He whispers, unbreakably staring at the fruit. His voice is steady.

Maybe now, maybe now I'll ask him. I'll ask him who nearly killed him. An aching feeling inside drags something out of me that makes me instruct, "Tell me your name. You know mine, how about returning the favor?"

His gaze flickers up to me. There is a new kind of pain in them. "I can't," he chokes out.

I blink and after a while, back up onto the couch. "Eat those," I order, nodding to the apples. "And sit down." I pat the spot next to me. He does and reaches for one of the empires. They are mechanical motions, done by someone who's brain is locked in limbo. We sit in silence; the only sound is the crunching of apples. When he is halfway through the second apple, I say, "I guess I'll have to call you No Name. Or Nameless. Maybe Unless." He glances briefly over to me at the last one. "You know? From _The Lorax_."

_The Lorax _isn't something someone would expect me to like. Dr. Seuss specifically. It's just so bubbly and innocent and life lesson-y. Not me. At all. But it's something from that same box of lullabies.

"I like Unless. I'm calling you that until you can tell me your name," I dismiss. Maybe I liked that term because it sounded like a threat. Something inside argues against that theory though.

Unless makes no comment and starts on the third apple. I pick up the first two cores by their stems and take them to the miniature garbage bin and let them fall. When I return to the couch, Unless is staring down at the last apple in his palm like it's a bird that could take off at any second. The empire has half of it missing with jutted edges from teeth gnawing into it.

"I can't remember," Unless says in a trance.

I lower myself down next to him again, steady and wary. The hairs on the back of neck prickle with a strange new form of hostility. "What?"

"My name. I can't remember it"-He still burns a hole into the apple as he continues-"I can't remember..."

My fingers unconsciously pull at the loose string on the cushion I sit on. Jo's dad had this as a kid. Jo told me about it. Jo's father knew because his parents and friends often recapped everything to him. He once forgot his grandmother had died. He got straight 'F's for not being able to remember what he learned. He never got presents for friends' and family's birthdays. There was so much more but Jo said what he found most ironic in the worst way was...

He couldn't remember his name.

"Short-term memory loss," I snort. It could be long-term, how would I know how long Unless has been this way. Why should I care? Unless nods, 'yes.'

And then

It

Hits

Me

How is he going to tell me who jumped him if he has short-term memory lose?

I remember the knives in my kitchen drawers.

I visualize him bleeding, coughing, dying...

Broken over and over again.

An endless cycle of a heart ripped in two with a spirit practically murdered like he almost had been.

I'm sure he'd just want it all to end.

I would be doing him a favor.

I can just picture Jo's face once the deed is done

Scars over scars over scars.

So much implies a violent past as cruel as what I live in now.

I'd want out if I were him...But since I'm me I would force myself to suck it up and get through it...who am I to have the audacity to make a decision for him...

And just like I saved Jo those distant years ago

I want to fix him.

* * *

><p><strong>Am I the only one who's getting just the tiniest bit tired of hearing Logan be called a whore?<strong>

**I know I am.**

**Originally I was going to include the part where Logan helps Kendall but I couldn't really think of what to put there.**


	3. Chapter 3

**2012 and we're still alive; lol!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>Alone and loveless here, just the girl in the mirror, just her and me; the Wicked Witch of the East! We deserve each other..."<em>

_-_Nessarose Thropp, _Wicked: A New Musical_

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><p>Over the past week I came to this conclusion: Unless doesn't talk much.<p>

I guess someone who doesn't remember much wouldn't talk much.

Often I would help him. Unless became my bittersweet excuse to actually be hiding. I requested to Jo to simply tell them all I planned on betraying his miserable existence. _That _seemed like me. Not some charity case. I'd never let anyone know of my true intents.

I would like to think of a less saccharine reason to be doing this.

But, alas. I can't.

While I was to mind my business with Unless, I still did have a community of such to run. So today I would meet up with a half-witted thief allied with James and Carlos. His name was Jeremy. No, no I couldn't call him by his last name to intimidate him because no one knew it. It was early in the morning when I left. I'll bet the sun isn't even up yet. In my dim-lit room I pulled on a black leather jacket over the t-shirt I'd worn the night before and a pair of ripped jeans. No matter what time the day, it was a risk to go out without something covering your eyes at least.

But I lived on risks.

Stepping outside into smoke strangled air never felt so great. Breathing in the intoxicated atmosphere, I clamored up the hard concrete stairs, my old rain boots slapping down on them. I didn't think it was worth it to wake Unless up to tell him where I went. I wouldn't be gone for long.

There was a location in Detroit that all we delinquents knew about. It was an underground bar that unless you had some kind of record; you were not allowed in. It was where deals were made and drug exchanges occurred. There was about three or four fights every week there on a daily bases. If the police ever found this place we'd all be in deep.

I was restless as I walked to the bar. It was from being caged in the hideout, but I already promised Jo I'd try to stay hidden and once I've made a deal of any kind, I keep it. As I continued onward I began calculating what I was going to say to Jeremy. For starters I needed to make sure he hadn't gotten arrested recently for now that the police were hammering down on us, we were to be more careful as to the crimes we committed. Jeremy wasn't exactly careful.

In the early dawn, I turned down into the alleyway that led to the bar and turned at the maze like corners. Straight, left, right, left, straight, right. Then there was a heavy concrete door with a small peep hole. Why they made the door out of concrete I have no idea. My knuckles would redden every time I banged against it. So, knocking again against the door I thought to myself that I would have to tell the owner to replace it. A few moments passed before the door slowly opened with a chalkboard-against-nails sound.

"L-Logan, welcome back," one of the workers, a lanky man in his early twenties stammers. "You haven't been here in a while."

"Yep, well here I am," I say sheepishly, walking past him and down the stairs into a lamp-lit druggy-invested pit. Everyone freezes, whether drunk or sober, when I jump off the last step. A perfect, '_he's back...' _moment.

"Mitchell!" Everyone in my way parted to reveal Jeremy sitting at the bar. He was only sixteen or seventeen but he looked much younger. Too young to be involved in this world, but everyone got an early start here. I strolled over to the empty seat and plopped down, rotating the spinning chair to face Jeremy. "You wanted to speak with me?" He inquired.

"Yes. How have you been?"

Jeremy frowned and eyed me distrusting and cautious. "What the hell do you mean, 'how have you been?'"

"Got caught by the police lately? Someone see your face while you were robbing a 7Eleven? C'mon, what? Taser got your tongue?" I pressed.

Jeremy closed his eyes, his shoulders tensing. "No and no." He opened his eyes again. Jeremy muses, "Was that all you wanted to know?"

"Not exactly," I lie. Crap, this is so unlike me for not thinking this through. I made myself sound sure of my words when I continue, "You need to be careful. You need to start being careful or else our whole community will come crashing down and we'll_ all _be behind bars so fast you won't know what hit you. Well. You won't know until your cell mates beat you."

"You can't scare me Logan," Jeremy snickers.

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh really now?" I shrug, knowing he doesn't mean that. No one means things like that. "If you say so."

"Hmm? I-yes. Hear that!" He exclaims. "I'm not afraid of Logan Mitchell!"

Once again, everyone freezes. I smirk and rotate around to cast my gaze across the crowd, and then move back around to look at Jeremy. "I do not believe that you are convincing them." I clear my throat to keep their attention on our conversation. "Jeremy, have you been having some mental issues?"

Jeremy coughs. "What?"  
>"Mental issues. Or...trouble at home."<p>

"I haven't been home since I was fourteen, Logan," Jeremy mumbles, suddenly not so tough.

"Ah, yes. Because no one would try to stand up to me unless something was going on. So. What's going on?"  
>Crickets. I swear I could hear crickets. Jeremy's eyes narrow. "You expect me to tell you?"<p>

I glance around and slip of my chair. I walk to a man in his late thirties sitting at one of the tables, and rip the near empty beer bottle from his grip. I go back to Jeremy and hover the bottle over the counter, threatening to smash it. "I do actually," I say, icily. "Because your problems become all of our problems."

Jeremy watches the bottle, and voice seething acid, he says, "My cousin is missing...my cousin Kendall."

I stop wielding the bottle and rest my head on one side. "Missing. Missing how? One of these guys kidnap him?" I loosely hold the bottle over my shoulder as a gesture to them. "I can settle that."

"Kendall's father-my uncle, sells him to people to make a quick buck and he doesn't sell him to the most passionate people. Before they abuse him they'll beat him and Kendall's most recent renter hasn't returned him yet," Jeremy explains, a coldness in his eyes. "Why my uncle would do what he's done...well look the hell around…Kendall was easy to take advantage of because...he had short term memory lose."

I nearly let go of the glass in my hands. "Hmm? I-um," I clear my throat. "Well, that's unfortunate, but stay out of trouble or we'll all teach you what happens when someone puts us in danger." I whirl around again and strode off to the exit, casually letting the bottle drop, grinning at the smashing sound it makes when it hits the ground. Heading back home to the hideout I'm satisfied at my newly acquired information and relieved that Unless now has a name. As I turn out of the alleyway, my phone rings.

"What Jo?" I exhale in annoyance, answering it.

"Um, you need to get back to the hideout, _now_," she hisses, panicked. "Unless is freaking out!"  
>"Freaking out? I've only been gone for a half an hour and he was asleep, and oh I figured out Unless' name-it's Kendall, who'ta thunk, huh?"<p>

"Who-wait, wha..." Jo trails off. "Nevermind! Just get the heck over here!"

"Fine, okay, I'm hurrying, do you hear me running? I'm running now Jo, if someone see's me and calls the cops I'm rating you out," I warn before hanging up. I don't think I'd do that though. When I reach the hideout, I knock promptly on the door, not really expecting much. I hear shouting and Jo desperately begging Unless to calm down. I knock again, stronger and rapider than before.

"Jo!" I exclaim, "Jo, open the door!"

And it was practically thrown open, the door nearly being ripped off its hinges. Jo stood before me, her blonde hair a gnarled mess falling in front of her face. She is breathing hard. "Come in," Jo snarls, through clenched teeth.

I step inside and glance around. I can't believe that just a second ago I heard screaming because Unless-ur, Kendall- is absolutely no where in sight. The only proof of a struggle was all of the eschew cushions and knocked over...everything. "Where is he?" I ask, continuing to search.

"Oh, check _the kitchen floor," _sighs Jo.

I nod slowly and walk over to the box-kitchen. Kendall's back is pressed against the inner corner of the 'L' counter and his knees are against his chest. He's glancing around frantically for something. Do people with short-term memory loss break down? I waved for Jo to stay back as I proceeded onward. I crouch in front of him. "Hey...Unless? Are you doin okay?"

He stops and locks onto me. "Lo-Logan?"  
>"Yeah," I say. "What, um. What happened?"<p>

Kendall shakes his head and I notice suddenly that there are streams of tears sliding down his cheeks. "When you weren't here I...I didn't know what was going on then this...girl came in and I thought she was going to hurt me."

Wow, he's never talked this much.

"Jo? I thought you knew who-" I frown. "Nevermind." Kendall's green eyes flicker with fear, and I remember what Jeremy explained. I feel no doubt when I recall his supposed past that, that is where his pain origins. "Hey, Unless? Today, I was with my...buddies so to speak, and one of them knew stuff about you."

Kendall sniffs, "R-really?"

"Yes. Your name." I smile and rest a hand on his right shoulder. "It's Kendall."

"...Kendall?" He confirms. His eyes close. "It sounds right." Kendall's eyes open, teary and...tragically beautiful. "Thank you."

I rub the hand that was on his shoulder, up and down his upper arm. "Glad to be of service..._Kendall."_

"I'm sorry I wrecked your home, I freaked out and couldn't remember where you could've been if you even would tell me something like that," Kendall babbles through choked back sobs. I feel my smile falter a bit. Thinking hard, I remember what I would do to comfort Jo.

I move my other arm around him a pull Kendall into a tight embrace. He releases a startled yelp before relaxing. I move my hands up and down his back. I whisper into his ear, "I'll call you Kendall everyday from now on so you won't forget it. I won't leave without giving you a note, okay?"

"Mmm, hmm..." Kendall says, "Logan...? C-can you do me a favor. I know you've already given me back the most important thing anyone could ask for...but..."

"Yeah, Kendall?" I inquire, pulling back, but keeping him close.

"Tonight, I want to hear you sing again. I can't remember how it sounded."

I am quiet. My voice had surprised me. It didn't feel like me. But he still looks broken. And I still want to fix him.

"Okay," I say. Then I remember Jo is still here. "Hold on a sec." I get up. She is just finishing placing the cushions back onto the couch. When Jo notices me, I motion for her to leave.

'Is he okay?' She mouths. I nod. Jo flips her hair out of her eyes before marching out the door. I'll have to call her later.

"Alright," I exclaim, lowering back down to Kendall. "There's still a lot of time left in the day."

"There...is?"

"Yes. And we can't go anywhere so let's just sit and...talk," I finish lamely. I won't tell him about being sold by his father. It just seems too cruel. Even for me.

Kendall wipes his face dry. "Talk about what?"

"About...maybe we could think of what your life could've been."

"Like a word game?" Kendall asks.

I shrug. "You could say that." I stand up straight again and hold out a hand. Kendall takes it, hesitantly and rises. A weak and fragile smile creeps its way onto his face..."I think I'd like that."

* * *

><p>"High School graduate?" I say.<p>

Kendall shook his head. He points out quietly, "I'm not sure I seem like someone who would even make it through High School..." Kendall adds even quieter, "Look at me..."

I scoot closer to him on the couch and lightly whap him with the handful of paper I grabbed for notes. If anything other than what I knew that could be true came along; I'd write it. Not too bad of an idea, and at least I could avoid spilling his vile past.

"Vet in training?"

Kendall glances at me. "Vet? That's...an animal doctor?"

I nod. "Yes..."

"I..." He shakes his head. "No..."

"Hmm."

Kendall murmurs, "How about you? What do you do? What's your past?"

Uh. Intimidating my community 'Disturbia', stealing, kidnapping; anything you can think of...oh and I had only one parent and Jo was my only friend if that's even the right word to describe her...Oh! And I became a train wreck and it molded me into who I am. Who I am one hundred percent _glad _I am.

"I don't like to talk about it." Did I just say? I didn't just say that. "I'll tell you...some other day." He won't remember me saying that so I'll never have to explain myself really. Honestly, Kendall couldn't handle my truths.

"Understood," Kendall mumbles.

I bite my bottom lip and place the paper onto the coffee table. "Are you still in any pain?"

"It's not as bad..."

"Do you still need help, or can you clean up yourself-hygiene. Very, uh important," I say.

Kendall stares down in embarrassment, his cheeks flush in a deep red. "I'm okay. But I want you with me. I feel safer with you."

'I want you with me'... 'I feel safer with you'… was this the same blonde boy from a week ago? I didn't care. My plan was working faster than any pro therapist would deem possible.

"Let's...get to it then."

* * *

><p>I bring him one of my pillows, tonight to use. Kendall tucks the pillow under his head and snuggles under the thin blanket. I kneel in front of him.<p>

"...Yes?" Kendall says.

"You wanted me to sing you to sleep again," I remind.

Kendall nods. "R-right. Go ahead."

I had a pretty good song idea in mind while he changed. I wasn't sure if I would sound the same, no one but the two people who couldn't hold onto my voice, were the only hearing it. I would never know how I sounded. I never sung to Jo so she couldn't tell me.

_"When you try your best but you don't succeed, when you get what you want but not what you need...When you feel so tired but you can't sleep; stuck in reverse..." _This was another song that because of Jo was forever burned into my mind.

"_And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace...When you love someone but it goes to waste; could it be worse? Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones...And I will try, to fix you...And high above or down below, when you're too in love to let it go..." _I felt myself tense at the last few words and couldn't bring myself to meet Kendall's gaze.

"_But if you never try you'll never know; just what you're worth... Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones...And I will try, to fix you...Tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace; tears stream down on your face, I...Tears stream down on your face, I promise you that I will learn from my mistakes; tears stream down on your face and I..." _I breathe in and out. Kendall has a single tear straying from one of his emerald eyes. I gently reach out and brush it away.

"_Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones...And I will try, to fix you..." _

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><p><strong>Did you see that coming? Hmm? Well you probably already knew Unless' name was Kendall, but yeah...Again, couldn't really think of what to put for the scene where Logan 'helps' Kendall, if any of you have anything in mind for scenes like though, leave me a review or PM =)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Another update, whoo! I am very impressed with myself, lol! xD I want to thank Fallenangelqueen for giving me ideas that will be used in this chapter and the next one. She gave me the perfect inspiration right when I needed it, so my thanks go to her.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>No one controls your destiny. Even at the very worst-there is always choice."<em>

_-_Gregory Maguire, _Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West_

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><p>"Ugh..." I groan. There's an odd lightheaded feeling pumping through my brain. It is the feeling of someone who hasn't been sleeping well if at all. My back is a little sore. When I open my eyes I stare up at a dull beige ceiling. It doesn't take me long to register where I am. I sit up and glance around my living room. Wonderful. Won-der-ful. I'm crammed between my small coffee table and the couch. I must've fallen asleep. "What is wrong with you Mitchell?" I shun myself. "Pull yourself together." As I get up I notice Kendall is still sleeping soundly. He was vulnerable enough as it is, now he was more so than a baby rabbit. Staring at him made me want to go ask Jeremy about his <em>cousin<em> Kendall more. I'd do it in a way that didn't make me a suspect. I would shower, change, report to Kendall that I was off to run some 'errands', and then hunt down Jeremy.

Of course, I'd need a reason to be asking about his cousin…Well, just like any business, stocks most always be checked. I'd ask about Kendall's owners along with his father whom was raking in all the money. Come to think of it, I just maybe could accomplish what I originally wished to achieve.

It felt strange, this morning waking up not lonely. Sure, Kendall had been here for a week, but only last night did we truly connect. If 'connect' is even the right word to use. Walking through my home that wasn't a home, felt less private-it felt like I had someone watching me. No-not like the Almighty God, or a guardian angel; more like someone acknowledging I was still alive. According to the police I was in hiding somewhere in Utah or whatever and the citizens of Detroit believed-more wished-I was dead.

I went about my actions and after I had finished showering, I went to put on some clothes. Searching through my closet I remind myself again to call Jo. I needed to know why she was here yesterday and also...I really need her to do my laundry again. I can do laundry but I don't have a washer machine in the hideout. Settling on a pair of dark blue jeans-but does the color matter, I mean _psh _aren't all jeans the same?-, boxers- again, all the same who cares- and a black t-shirt with blue, green and white city patterns; the words: Giant Creature scrawled across it. I toss my shirt onto the bed so I can pull on my jeans.

Then I hear a familiar whimpering noise. Not bothering to put my t-shirt on, I walk out into the living room and find Kendall sitting up, his arms wrapped around his body. He is hunched over and he is trembling. I can hear his empty crying, and recognize it as the sound of someone who has been broken over and over...

And he doesn't even know why.

"Kendall, hey," I say placidly, "What's wrong?"

When he looks up his face is pale and there are trails of tears painted across his face. "You're still here," Kendall whispers, voice raw sounding. "I remember not hearing you get up to go back to sleep too...Well I think that was it, or maybe you just fell asleep on the floor on purpose…" He closes his eyes as if trying to recall something. "I don't remember if there could've been a reason for you to leave; this is your home...I couldn't remember if people got up in the middle of the night, I don't think I ever did."

I've never known anyone else with short-term memory lose so really, I wasn't sure how someone like that behaved. If they all acted like Kendall, or if everyone had different side effects.

"It happens sometimes," I say, "People getting up in the middle of the night." I thought for a moment. "But I wasn't going to leave"- ouch, oops- "I just had to shower."

I guess Jeremy could wait. Besides, I'd need to set up a specific time and place.

Kendall eyes me for a second, edgy and exhausted. Maybe I should've put my shirt on if he was feeling uncomfortable but then again he did let me help bathe him; ugh but he probably doesn't remember that kind of stuff well either...

"Um. I'll be right back, okay?" I confirm. He nods and I turn away back to my room. At least now I can call Jo; get it over with. I slip on the Giant Creature shirt before grabbing...one of 'my' cell phones from the bedside table. Every one of these phones now has Jo's number registered and Jo knows almost all of the new digits. The vibrations rumble through the other end for...one, two, three, four...five? _Six? _Where the hell was she? I try again.

"Logan, what is it?" She answers.

I frown and sit on the edge of the bed. "Why didn't you pick up before? You know what-Nevermind. Two things: One; what were you doing here yesterday. And two...I need you to do another load of laundry for me."

Jo snorts, "Fine, alright." I hear the sound of her moving through a cluttered area. She must be in her hallway closet. "You know what; I kinda just needed to talk with you in person, its really important."

I nod to myself. "I was going out to talk with that Jeremy guy, and then Kendall woke up and freaked out a little so I'm stuck here."

"...Yeah, that's great Logan," Jo sighs like I've just insulted her or something. "I'll try to get a hold of you later, good luck with Kendall."

Before she can hang up I state, "Thanks, Jo."

Jo is quiet and when she speaks she sounds incredulous, "No problem." After I hang up I hear the sound of Kendall leaning against the creaky door frame.

"Who's Jo?" Kendall inquires, in his hushed voice.

That's right; I never explained to Kendall completely who she was. Jo was there to help when we first rescued him but he didn't seem to consider this. I place the cell phone beside me on the bed. "She's my...my best friend," I explain, wincing slightly. I'd never officially dubbed her with this title but in retrospect it made sense. "Jo helps me out."

"Oh..." Kendall says. "Okay." He drops his gaze to the floor. "You are aware I won't remember that in an hour."

"I'll write it down," I say. Kendall nods and shifts awkwardly to balance himself. There is hesitance in his eyes and I meet his gaze to where it rests on the free spot next to me. "You can sit," I press.

"Ah, I'm fine standing, thank you," Kendall mumbles.

"No...I don't think you are," I debate, "sit down."

He does so, parking so far on the edge that he could fall off. "Logan...Am I hopeless?"

"I wouldn't go that far," I say attentively, "Kendall you are not hopeless."

Kendall shakes his head. "Every time you talk to me, every time I move around I always know...that I'll be forgetting it in only but an hour if I'm lucky."

"There'll always been writing things down on your side," I point out. "And...You will have me. I promise you that."

There is silence between us. But it wasn't bad silence. Kendall pushes himself up onto the bed more. He moves his fingers over his scarring neck. "Logan..." He repeats.

"Yeah?" I sigh.

"Can I...Can we...hug maybe?"

Hug? Ha, ha, okay. I don't hug. Maybe once I've hugged Jo when we were still innocent little children but I _don't _hug.

"Okay," I say. What! WHAT! Logan. You need to see a doctor.

I turn my body sideways and wrap my arms around him, tugging him close so that he is flush against me. Enveloping the blonde in my arms makes me feel bizarrely light inside. Kendall's face buries in the crook of my neck and my hands rub his back. I don't think this should make me feel the way I do when I _never _feel this way.

Because I feel that something should be said, I tell him, "I've never met someone with short-term memory lose."  
>"And? What do you think," he says, muffled.<p>

"Not too bad," I admit.

"Then you must be very patient," Kendall breaths.

I shrug. "That's one way to put it." In Disturbia I've been called many things, and I guess 'patient' could be a quarter of an interpretation.

"I-uh, I want you to know that I am so glad that..." his lips tickled my neck and something in my stomach flutters. "...that you found me."

My heart thumps just a bit faster. "N-no, Kendall." I pull back so we are looking into each other's eyes. Heartrending jaded orbs lock with my pitiless dark brown ones. "You found me."

* * *

><p>We spent the day talking again. About him...and about me. Not about what I do now, actually about how Jo and I were. I theoried him that we were both misfits and that seemed to agree with Kendall most. Again I wrote down everything upon Kendall's request. The entire time we talked we remained glued beside each other. Kendall acted as if something was going to burst in a take him away. I didn't blame him for that knowing what was really buried in that past of his.<p>

While he ate what I could scavage for lunch, I used a fairly newly aquired laptop to search common side-effects for short-term memory lose. What I discovered was first; the obvious: inability to remember recent events and disorientation. There was also finding words to fit conversation. That didn't apply to Kendall yet as far as I knew. There was also mood changes, like unreasonable explanations for acting certain ways. I suppose that could apply to Kendall too...along with...repetitivness. Everything about this damn disease made things no different.

"What are you doing over there?" Kendall aks, glancing over from the orange that just previously had his undivided attention.

"Looking up short-term memory lose," I say.

"Why?"

"You know why," I murmur, "To find out about you."

"Oh."

I bookmark the page before shutting the laptop. "I'll get more food later"- Jo'll get more to be exact- "How's the orange?"

"Great," Kendall says.

I pick up the remote squeezed onto the coffee table and turn on the TV. I'll watch the news from now and then to find out about the community members when I can't myself. There's normally a crime by at least one of us everyday. A new reporter is standing in the Detroit Police Station. She is in her early fourties and has wavy orange hair along with hauntingly familiar eyes.

"I am here with Officer Jackson and his two newest members Camille and Jett," she annonces in a commercial style way. "Now, recently signs of a break in have been found."

The camera zoomed out to show Disturbia's worse enemy along with two others in their early twenties. The girl, Camille was a brunette with gently curled hair that stopped at her elbows. The guy had hair mused up even more than mine with a fierce, ambitious gleam to his eyes. These were the two that Lucy Stone was concerned about. If this was true, then this break in must have something to do with her.

"Yes," Officer Jackson confirms, "The lock to the window in Camille and Jett's shared office was crakced and a few things were missing from both their portfolios."

"And why do you think someone is targeting you two?" Carrot-head girl asks Camille and Jett.

"I...don't know," Camille admits.

"Maybe someone is threatened by our skills," Jett snickers. "If this person comes back they'll end up behind bars so fast it'll make their head spin."

Carrot-head smiles. "Wow, you seem pretty confident."

"That's because I am, Jennifer," Jett laughs.

_Jennifer?_ What kind of name was that? "Good, confindence is good in a young police man such as yourself," Jennifer exclaims.

Camille adds in a more serious ton, "But we must be careful. We still have to see what of our information has been taken."

"As always," Officer Jackson agrees. "Thank you Jennifer, we'll be sure to call your team when we find more."

I turn the volume down and notice Kendall watching the program with a smoldering gaze that could burn a hole right through the Televison. "You...okay?" I ask. "If you were wondering that's just TV, it-"

"I know," Kendall interrupts. He shakes his head. "I just...it's not important."

I shrug and turn the network off, not needing to see more, but mildly aware that if Lucy got the information; she'd be dropping by soon. Now, I had Kendall, Jo, Jeremy, and Lucy to deal with.

S'alright.

I can handle this.

Besides,

I am Logan Mitchell.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this is so short! Once again, I will be using Fallenangelqueen's ideas in the next chapter, thnx!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**School's been stressful, but I am on a week-long break; so here's an update. Once again, going to thank Fallenangelqueen for the ideas at the end of this chapter are from her as well =)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>...Are you slow, or are you falling in love with me?"<em>

_-_Trism to Liir, _Son of a Witch_

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><p>Kendall,<p>

I needed to step out to run some important errands.

I'll be back soon, keep this note close by so you don't forget

-Logan

I place the note on the coffee table hoping that he'll see it. Sooner rather than later I was going to locate Jeremy. Lucy, I need not worry because only Jo had a spare key so there wasn't any need at all to worry for a Kendall-freak out. My gaze watches him sleep for a few moments before I pull myself away.

Now normally, I know exactly where the members of my rather violent community are, but Jeremy was still relatively new. For all I know, he could be where we met last or out robbing a gas station. I'd find him. I would. No doubt about that. I walk with my head down as usual, avoiding any eye contact. Going out in the middle of the day was the most hazardous naturally. Weaving around the people, I scout through the streets of Detroit. A good way to tell whether someone was like you or not, was how they dressed. All I needed was to find who also clad in something relative to a hoodie, and sunglasses. Believe me when I say there were many of them. It makes me wonder why anyone would even bother living in Detroit in the first place.

Someone's hand rests on my shoulder and on instinct; I whip around and slam him into the nearest wall. Passerby's gasp and speed away. "Who the _hell _do you are?" I demand.

She tears off her sunglasses and I am greeted by her sharp dark eyes. "Me you idiot," Lucy snarls, shoving past me. She adjusts her black leather jacket, places her sunglasses on again, and begins walking; motioning with her hand for me to follow.

"What, Stone?" I snarl. "I find you, remember? If it was about those cops, then I would've contacted you first." I follow her anyways. "Are you listening?"

"Yes. And I'm going to need you to meet me at my own hideout so I can show you what I've found."

"I am sure you are aware, but I have much more important matters to tend to," I inform.

"Ah, but you are the one who made the deal," Lucy reminds.

"Oh, did I get a good price on it **(1)**?" I snicker, "I am sure you can wait."

Lucy shakes her head, letting out an irritated breath. "Maybe you don't understand..." She shifts in front of me, blocking my way. "If you haven't noticed, I am the second most feared and have just as much to deal with as you."

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. "If you're trying to tell me you're an ounce the same as I am, than you are insane; get out of my way."

"Mitchell, you're coming with me," Lucy says in a hushed voice.

Giving in to this would show weakness. And then that defeat would travel fast and my respect would be destroyed in an instant. Then again, what would be thought of me if I refused to fulfill what had been started? "Fine, but this better not take long."

Lucy leads me on as we move past hoards of people. She stops us at the corner of Walsh Street and Carson Street. Lucy nods towards the alleyway and we head down it, turn once and stop at a dead end. On the right wall is a door that looks as if it'll collapse at any second. Lucy pulls out a key from her jeans pocket and jams it into the key slot. The door opens and I enter, Lucy close behind. It's identical to my hideout home, except there's only one extra room and...The colors aren't what I would choose. Through the open door of it, you can see it is the bathroom. Her bed is against the back wall in the living room.

"Sit down Logan, I'll get-"

"Their profiles?" I interrupt. "I saw it on the news."

Lucy nods slowly. "Wait here then," she says, "and don't touch anything."

"Like I would want to," I snort, sitting down on her couch. I felt like someone waiting outside the office of their future employer...It gave me a disgusting, 'blech', no-never; not happening again feeling. I never was a big fan of being the one waiting. I didn't wait for people-people waited for me.

"Here," Lucy grumbles. Two folders slap down on the coffee table in front of me. One folder is labeled: **Roberts, Camille, **and the other: **Stetson, Jett**. I pick up Camille's folder, open it, and browse threw it for a few moments.

"I thought you only needed the girl's information," I say, "And I still have no idea why you feel threatened."

"How about you ask your girlfriend?" Lucy says, ignoring my first comment.

I stop midway from exploring Jett's profile. I knew she was talking about Jo. People still thought that? Didn't they know I was...never mind. I didn't dare let anyone know about _that_. Never would I let anyone know. "Jo is not my girlfriend," I correct. "And what would she have to say about you and these two new police? I thought they found your DNA at a car high-jacking crime scene."

"News flash: I made it up and if it had been true, don't you think you would have heard about it?" Lucy snarls, her jaw clenched. "Let's just say they are a vital part of something she is asking me to do."

"Why would you do anything for Jo?" I demand, choosing to ignore that she lied to me because; well, that was something Lucy Stone did. Lie.

"You're not the only one who makes deals around here," Lucy jeers, her eyes rolling. She shifts her weight from one side to the other. "Call her. If you don't believe me, call her. She'll tell you."

"Don't interrogate Jo," I warn.

Lucy gives a staid chuckle. "Like you give a damn about anyone," she scorns. "Especially Jo Taylor, for all everyone knows she could be your little sex bunny."

"I'll make you regret that. I don't give a shit that you're a girl. When I'm done with you, you won't remember what happened-that's how badly you'll be wounded," I threaten, voice cold. "Stone, I'll...I'll-"

"Rape me? _Please_. The rest of this Disturbia may be fooled but you've never raped anyone in your life. You kidnap but no child under ten, but even then you hardly do anything to your captives." Lucy and I lock gazes, the both of us reaching new levels of hatred. "Take the files, Logan Mitchell. Take them and get out. You _will _do something about them."

"Want them dead?" I stipulate, my heart turning to impassive stone at every passing second.

"Not dead. If you can manage it; capture them," she says. "You can go back to what you were doing now."

I want to tell her off again; to feel alpha once more...but I don't know how to retaliate. Who did she think she was ordering Logan Mitchell around! I don't think so! I'd do something criminal tonight. I'd do something to put myself back on top. And then, I would abduct those two police and she'd see who could "manage it" then. My hands gripped the folders to prevent them from reaching forward to fold around Lucy's neck; squeezing tighter and tighter until the air slipped slowly from her thin lips until...

"I said, go now," Lucy says.

I stand up, walk around her couch and pause at the door. My instinct wants me to kill her. I open the door with one hand and step outside, closing the door again and the hood is over my head. For me, there are a change of plans. I'm going back to the hideout early...but first, a pit stop. I slip the folders into the hidden inside pocket of my hoodie and stalk out of the ally and through the crowds. Impulses on fire, I analyze. Out of my peripheral vision I see two teenagers; a boy and a girl making out against the wall; a poor beggar man sitting on the curb across the street; a business woman talking on the phone...I don't care how many people there are around, or who could see, or what will happen afterwards, or what Jo will think of me violating my hiding agreement...because I haven't murdered in months; and Lucy Stone and everyone else needs to remember why I am so feared.

Imagining business woman is Stone as I close my hands around her neck, ignoring everyone; instead appreciating how she let's out a soundless gasp, the cell phone falling from her grasp and hitting the ground. It is over in seconds and I am speeding down the street before anyone can catch me. No one stops me because they know I could do something worse to them. I don't stop until the screams are distant, the shouts and warnings die down, and the death is behind me. My heart thumps and the image of business woman falling is just a sweet refreshment of what used to be my hobby. I reach the hideout and slam the heavy door when I am inside.

"Logan?" Kendall calls uneasily.

"Yeah, Kendall; it's me," I say, removing my sunglasses. He peers his head out from my bedroom and smiles.

"Good. If it wasn't you..." Kendall shudders and steps out completely. "I guess I'd just get confused and freak out again."

"We can't have that happen," I agree, setting them onto the coffee table. "I assume you found the note okay."

He nods and takes a few shy steps forward. "What did you have to do?"

"Nothing important. Are you hungry?"

"Nah."

I shrug. "Suite yourself. What were you doing before I came back?"

Kendall glances down at his feet as if in embarrassment and his cheeks are suddenly flushed a deep red. "I don't think you'll be too happy."

"Don't be ridiculous, you can tell me anything," I assure, walking over to him.

"I slept more..." Kendall admits quietly, "But in your bed."

I raise an eyebrow. "My bed? Were you comfortable?"

Kendall's cheeks glow in an impossible shade. "Yes. Are you mad?"

"No, of course not," I say. "Did I wake you?"

"A little; but I was going to stretch a bit anyways," Kendall says, "And I don't think that it is good to sleep all day anyways, right?"

"Right," I reply. "You go in my room again and do that, I have to make a call."

Kendall nods and disappears behind the door. I take the cell phone on the coffee table and dial the only number I know by heart. Let's just see what Jo has to say about Lucy Stone...

"Logan? What is it this time?" She sighs.

"Did you make a deal with Lucy Stone? Something about those two new cops; Camille Roberts and Jett Stetson?"

"Did she confront you?" Jo inquires, "Why did you meet with her before originally?"

"She needed me to do something about Roberts so I instructed her to get information, and then I'd deal with her. Stone broke in to the police station and got both Stetson and Robert's profiles. Lucy Stone told me you know something about why she needed them."

I count the seconds that go by before she answers. "It's nothing," Jo mutters. 78. 78 seconds.

"Nothing, hmm?"

"Yes, nothing; now I'm sure you've got better things to do than talk to me," she murmurs.

"No, I need to know things like this; I'm planning on kidnapping them," I state.

"What?"

"What yourself; why do you care? Huh?"

"Why do I-? Where would they go? You have Kendall, remember!"

"Yeah, I could think of somewhere else to keep them."

"Logan, just let it go; Lucy is setting you up to get arrested," Jo snaps, hanging up a half second later.

Alright, she was helpful. I can't trust Lucy Stone, she's right about that. I was about to go to Kendall when there was a knock. "Ah, what now!"

Then he calls, "Logan Mitchell? It's me, Jeremy! Open up!"

Oh. Okay. That couldn't have worked out any better. I guess I don't have to find him myself now. I walk over and open the door. "I've been looking around for you, you know; come in," I say.

"Really?" Jeremy grumbles, "Is that a good thing?" He enters and turns to face me with a distrustful expression.

"For me? Yes, because you've planted yourself in front of me without any work on my part. For you? Oh, I'd be a bit worried," I snicker.

Jeremy leans his back against the kitchen counter. "I needed to talk to you...I've been thinking after you met with me at the bar."

"Thinking about what?" I question.

"You seemed pretty interested in my cousin, Kendall," Jeremy points out.

"I need to know what happens around here," I say with a shrug. It isn't completely a lie.

"No kidding. I haven't been around Disturbia long, but I know enough that you can hardly trust anyone," Jeremy snarls. "What was with you caring about what happened to my cousin?"  
>Out of the corner of my eyes I see the cracked open door to my bedroom. Kendall is peeking out slightly. I motion for him to stay back.<p>

"What are you doing?" Jeremy asks, noting my hand movements.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," I say. "While we're on the topic; who was the last person Kendall was sold to?"

Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Hawk."

My eyes narrow. "Hawk? Okay then..." I nod. "I know that man...never did trust him."

"He's one of my uncle's most common customers."

"I'll confront him eventually."

Jeremy's eyebrows spike up. "See, there you go; interested in my personal issues."

"I'm interested in a lot of things," I counter, "Now, I think I have aquired all I need to know for now; you need not stay any longer."

"That's it? I don't get any answers, but you get to know more about my life?"

"Yup, kid; that's how it works."

"Kid? I'm sixteen!"

"In this world; that's considered a kid-now go on." I catch sight of Kendall again and bite down on my bottom lip. He has that look on his face. It is that look of remembrance. "Try not get arrested," I say, grabbing his wrist and shoving Jeremy to the door. I push him out and close the door before he can do anything more. That quick little visit was almost catastrophic.

"Kendall," I say, turning around, "that, uh-that was nothing; I mean, that was no one."

"The news reporter we were watching...the one named Jennifer? I think I know her..." Kendall says in a whisper, "And that boy...Jeremy? He's familiar too."  
>"Oh, uh-so you're remembering things?" I inquire warily. "Does that happen with short term memory lose? You seem to have long term memory lose, I don't think reminiscing happens in that case," I reason.<p>

Kendall shakes his head and emerges completely. "Logan, I know the difference between the two things." He hurries over to me and I meet him halfway. "Logan...I think I need to talk with the boy you sent away. What if he knows something about me?"

I think about it more a moment- but no longer than that. "No. Kendall, this is ridiculous. It's not reasonable. Jeremy won't know anything. You don't know anything; you're staying here."

Kendall blinks. "I never mentioned leaving, I just want to talk to him."

"Kendall, please..." I sigh, "Listen; if I knew something about your past, I'd tell you. Really. Jeremy is only part of your uncertainty. Leave it."

Kendall stares at the floor. "I'm sorry."

I smile sympathetically. "Don't be. You're confused and that's always hard; I don't blame you for wanting to believe you could remember."

"Thanks...I guess I'm just a bit desperate," he admits sheepishly.

"You don't have to be," I say, "Because with me around, you don't need memory. I'll always be here." Literally...

"Thanks," Kendall says again.

"Don't worry about it," I press.

* * *

><p>There was much more activity today than I expected and really, I need something to make it disappear. James and Carlos were always sneaking around Rein Street where they constantly sold drugs. And I needed something stronger than what any bar could provide right now. Kendall was already beginning to fall asleep. I walk to the couch and he scoots backwards slightly allowing me to sit at the left end. I turn on the TV and watch for a bit to see if anyone has reported the murder of business woman yet. Waiting for the news stories while in the meantime watching the weather; Kendall looks up at me and snuggles closer a bit.<p>

"You're wearing your hoodie again. That means you're leaving," he says.

"I won't be gone long," I reassure. The screen flashes to a story about Town Hall being remodeled. "You'll be fine."

Kendall props himself up on one elbow. "But...What if I don't? Logan, I don't want to freak out...I don't," he says, his voice trembling now. "I'll be honest, wh-when I found that note it t-took me at l-l-least an h-hour to breath normally. I c-c-couldn't think of what to do to take my mind o-off being a-alone and I wasn't sure if you gave me any i-ideas the day before...I-I didn't want to m-mess up or r-r-ruin your home again so I-well...A-after I managed to calm down...I w-went into your room...and...I-I felt s-safe in your bed."

My gaze flickers to the television screen when the news reporter Jennifer says that Kelly Wainwright was murdered on her way to work. I bite my tongue and turn of the TV, my attention converting completely to Kendall again. "You're scared then?" I inquire, letting my arm rest over his back, my hand on his shoulder.

"In a nutshell..." Kendall says rigidly. "I'm scared that I rely on someone I hardly know so much and I'm absolutely terrified that my past is going to one day vanish completely even if it is somewhere in my mind."

There is something tragic in his voice and his emerald eyes have more pain in them usual. Nothing would feel better than getting drunk and forgetting everything, but I can't leave him now. I reach my hand up to brush aside the dirty blonde locks that have fallen in front of his eyes.

"I won't go if you don't want me to," I whisper.

"Please..." Kendall chokes out.

I lean back into the cushions and stroke the same hand up and down his upper arm. "Listen..." I sigh. "I won't let you're memory go. Tomorrow morning, I'll call Jo and have her bring some notebooks. You can write down everything you remember and record all you do and feel during the day. That way nothing can be lost. And don't be afraid of trusting me...with me..." I close my eyes and shake my head. When I open my eyes again, Kendall is staring up at me once more. I run my fingers through his hair and smile. "With me, let's just say there is nothing to fear anymore."

Kendall leans into me more. "Logan, I...thank you." He shifts onto his back, looking to the ceiling as if all the answers to his problems were up there. Under my touch I can feel him shivering. It's not cold, so I know it must be of his concern.

I know what I have to do...what I _want_ to do. Kendall moves onto his side again when I kick my shoes off. "_I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go; When all those shadows almost killed your light...I remember you said, 'don't leave me here alone', but all that's dead and gone and past tonight..."_

Kendall nestles his back against me. I wrap my arm tighter around him as a continue, "_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down; you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now; come morning light, you and I'll be...safe and sound..."_

He glances over his shoulder at me, jade orbs glowing though they were somnolent. I nod as if to confirm the lyrics' meaning and go on, "_Don't you dare look out your window, darlin' everything's on fire, the war outside our door keeps raging on...hold on...to this...lullaby... Even when the music's gone... Just close your eyes, the sun is going down; you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now; come morning light, you and I'll be...safe and sound..."_

I could feel him growing limp in my arms as sleep overpowered him. "_Just close your eyes...you'll be alright... come morning light, you and I'll be...safe and sound..."_

Well, I don't think I can head to my own bed with Kendall in my lap. He looks so much younger when he sleeps which only intensifies the virtuousness that he is. From what seems to be the truth, Kendall was a former prostitute...but not at his own will. So, didn't that technically make it trafficking? Kendall said he thought the news reporter Jennifer was familiar too...could she be related to him? I mean, I had thought there was something about her...

I couldn't be sure though. If, I repeated _IF_, I were to let Kendall go; I could never be certain that she did have any relations to him. And no matter what the proof may be, I wouldn't trust Jeremy if he was Kendall's last living family member. But...looking at him my heart twists just a little at the thought of keeping him practically hostage. I ponder over whether this decision is my best. My decisions and judgments were clever and all around cunning...but for the first time...I don't trust my own choice. The goal I had adopted was to restore Kendall but rehabilitation needs the people whom you are close to in order for it to work. That would be family in Kendall's case.

Would it really be that bad to let him and Jeremy talk? No. What am I saying? That could end in Kendall remembering his past and what did he do to deserve that? I'll make sure he won't forget anything and perhaps allow any good memories to say, but I will fight the worst of his past if I have to. Yes, Lucy was right when she accused me of not being a rapist. It was something I never stooped to because of the man that had assaulted Jo...I didn't kidnap young children because of her too.

* * *

><p>I make up my mind: Kendall is staying here.<p>

Usually, at night; it takes a while to fall asleep.

But tonight

For the first time in what seems like forever

I sleep with no corruption

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><p><strong>(1) my favorite Jade West line so far in the "VicTORIous" third season<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**I've been listening to a lot of music lately**

**Kendall: So you have...alright, okay**

**And, it's inspired me; it's inspired me a great deal**

**Logan: What is she going on about?**

**Kendall: I...really don't-**

**The inspiration of music, it is truly the root of imagination**

**Kendall: Please stop going all 'public speaker' on us**

**And my imagination has developed our story**

**Logan: OKAY! Okay, we get it- music equals inspiration and inspiration leads to story, art...**

**Can you stop talking? You don't make any sense**

**Logan: -_-**

**Well, let's get to our angst, drama, romance, crime, etcetera!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>What condition is that? I've been in this condition all my life. It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new."<em>

_-_Liir Thropp, _Son of a Witch_

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><p>Dreamless, I sleep soundly.<p>

With dreams, I seem to be trapped in nothing but nightmare.

From those I awake rested, but not rested.

Dreamless, I almost forget everything.

* * *

><p>I am I awaken by the sound of a vibrating cell phone. My eyes shoot open and I attempt to reach for the cell phone...when I remember. Kendall, at the moment, has made it near impossible for me to go anywhere. I manage to stretch my arm over Kendall to grab the phone. He stirs slightly when I shift back against the cushions. I don't even need to check the caller ID to know who it is.<p>

"I'm sorry for being so pissy last night when you called," Jo sighs. "And you just wanted answers. Hell, I haven't even been able to tell you why I was at your hideout when Kendall freaked out."  
>"Hmm? Oh right, that."<br>"I thought Kendall was the one with short-term memory loss," she teases.

"That he does," I mumble.

"It connects to what you asked of me to tell you about Lucy's intentions," Jo admits hastily as if it is painful to confess. "I needed to talk to you then about the decision I made in choosing Lucy to help me."

I blink. "Jo; help you with what?"

"Camille, she...er, interests me. I really didn't have any need to know about Jett, I suppose. God, can't Lucy work her own deals without pulling you into it?"

"So, Camille was interesting to you so you wanted to know about her?" I confirm, not quite understanding.

"There's more than that," Jo feigns in feeble self-loathing.

"You don't want anything bad done to them? Lucy said I need to 'do something about them'," I say.

"Well then she isn't holding up to what I asked her to do," Jo replies, voice stiff.

"Jo, it may be just me; but I haven't any idea what is going on, you haven't explained much."

"I needed to know if she and Jett were together," Jo explains.

"Why would you ever care about that?"  
>Jo is mute for a minute or two. "I'm a lesbian, Logan."<p>

Now it is my turn not to speak. I could've seen this coming I suppose. She never was like any other girl. Not exactly in a sexuality sense though. More like personality. Then again, we were both pretty different from the others. But...I don't recall Jo ever telling me she had a crush on someone, or that so-and-so celebrity was 'omg, soooo hot!' Maybe it was something I couldn't associate to her because at the time I was confused about my own feelings for her...if they were love or because it could be love when I wasn't even sure of my own sexuality.

But I was now. And although I vowed to myself that the secret would follow me to the grave of my miserable death...

"Logan? Are you still there?" Jo inquires apprehensively.

"Yeah," I mutter. The atmosphere grows intense as my head spins in wake of what I am to reveal. "I'm gay, too."

"Really?" Jo muses slowly. "Is... that why you don't rape?"

"No," I sigh, "I don't rape people because of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. After that night when the guy...hurt you, I couldn't be that person. I'm a murderer, a thief, and many more things of disreputable nature; but I won't cause the pain you had to go through."

I hear a sniff on the other end. "Thanks," Jo says, her voice clotted with tears. "I guess."

"It's nothing compared to the things I've done," I acknowledge. "Just a shot in the dark, but; you like her don't you? Camille, I mean."

"Ever since we first met..."

_Flashback..._

_I was walking to Starbucks and passed the police station. There was a dark blue mini cooper and, I know it's a pretty lame thing to notice; but I hadn't seen it there before. I always kept a camera with me for my own intentions in 'Disturbia' so I pulled it out of my purse and took a picture of the license plate. Then I walked to the side of the car and took another photo._

_"Wow, usually I only find guys photographing cars; even then it's a Ferrari, not my girl," a slightly mocking voice said from behind me. I turned and saw a girl a good few years older than me. She had curled dark brown hair that stopped at her elbows. She had laughing dark eyes glinted with undercover mischief. The girl had been glad in a see-through navy blue skirt with red and white roses, deep scarlet tights, a plain white t-shit with a gray mini vest over it, and black flats. The only makeup she had was pale pink lip gloss, faint eyeliner, and a thin-barley there layer of cover up. _

_"I'm sorry," I said sheepishly, stuffing my camera in my bag again._

_"It's okay," she laughed. "Hi, I'm Roberts. Camille more commonly actually."_

_"Camille Roberts," I repeated. "What's with the James Bond style intro?" _

_"Hardly James Bond," Camille sing-songed. "What's your name?"_

_"Taylor. Jo actually," I teased slightly. _

_"Well, Jo Taylor, what bring you here?"_

_"Oh, I was just passing by on my way to Starbucks."_

_Camille smiled warmly and I felt something flutter in my stomach. "No way," she exclaimed, "So am I!" Camille glanced at her car, then back at me. "I could use a good walk. Mind if I come with?"_

_I shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, sure; let's go."_

_As I walked with her I felt for once that I belonged somewhere in this twisted world. "So, what were you doing at the police station?" I asked._

_"Confirming my work hours; I got a job as a new policewoman," Camille explained proudly. _

_"Congratulations," I sighed. I hoped she knew what she was getting in to._

_"Both my parents were police," she said, "and my closest friend, Jett Stetson and I planned on being partners in the crime-busting work for a long time."_

_"Ah," I said._

_"What do you do for a living?" _

_Help my criminal friend stay in hiding; help that same criminal friend victimize poor innocent people...just the usual stuff. "Oh, nothing, really; I need a job obviously."_

_"I guess," Camille said empathetically. "Did you graduate from college?"_

_I hardly remembered my high school days. But I wasn't about to tell her that for financial issues from the fact my parents had practically abandon me, I could not finish high school, therefore, no college. Just me, Logan, and the criminal universe. _

_"No," I told her. "I wish I could have." Was she staring at me? Was she disgusted? Did she think I was stupid? I wasn't about to turn and look to see the expression in her eyes. _

_Finally, though, Camille stated, "Well then, I guess you've taken the artist road."_

_I smiled, but still did not glance at her. "That's...one way to put it."_

_"And, you're...what? 19? 20?"_

_"22," I corrected._

_"22," Camille repeated. "You still have time to go back to college."_

_Not in my case. I could never go anywhere like college. My life was better kept in the shadows. But so Camille wouldn't question me, I said, "You're right, I suppose."_

_"That's the spirit," Camille chirped, and right then; her voice was so sweet, so genuinely happy for a person whom she barley knew; I turned to meet her gaze. And time seemed to slow down-for me anyways- and all the people seemed to vanish. I had known I wasn't quite the same as other girls; I had come to accept that I would never be standing in a chapel one day with a preacher declaring me wife to a husband. Perhaps, someday- _someday- _I'd be living in New York with a beautiful girl who loved me in a way that I had never known because no one ever felt that much affection towards me; and because we'd be citizens of the city, we could be married. And I would be standing in a chapel with a preacher declaring me her partner for life. Maybe I wouldn't even need to live in another city; perhaps, by then, more states will have legalized same sex marriage. _

_But I hardly knew Camille. _

_Everything sped up once more, and I felt myself fall behind. Camille halted abruptly, and when she turned around, she was frowning. Camille ignored the people shouldering and bumping into her as she called, "What're you doing?"_

_"I, uh, lost me appetite," I shouted to her over the many voices around us. It was only after the words left my mouth did I realize how pathetic they sounded._

_"Appetite?" Camille confirmed. She giggled and shook her head. "You don't eat coffee, Jo. Alright. Maybe I'll see you around." Camille waved before turning on her heels. I watched as she walked away and wondered what I was to do. The only thing left was to forget her. _

_So I went back to my apartment and plopped myself down on the couch for a draining marathon of old movies. By 1:30 I had watched: "_Ferris Buller's Day Off", "The Breakfast Club", "Forrest Gump", _and_ "The Outsiders."

_And I still hadn't forgotten her. _

_That was predictable._

_But I could give it another few days._

_Things like forgetting took time. Especially when it was with someone who you were instantly attracted to. Was it love at first sight? I'll never know. But it stuck with me. Eventually I was going to go insane. _

_I knew I could not tell you, so I went to the second best._

_Lucy Stone. _

_End flashback..._

"So, I asked her to get a little information on Camille," Jo sighs. "I don't know how she got, 'do something bad to _both_ cops' out of that though."

"She gave me the stolen profiles for them because, well; you know. I've been dragged into this. I still have to hold up my deal so...I'll find a way to keep Camille safe, and Jett will be hurt; problem solved," I say.

"No," Jo snaps, "Problem not solved! If you hurt Jett, then you might hurt Camille too; those two are really close...that's what she told me."

"All the more reason to get rid of him," I point out. "Get the third wheel out of the picture, you know?"

"Logan. Don't."

"Fine, I'll just make him disappear."

"Wha-?" Jo began, but stopped. "Please, Logan!"

I bite my bottom lip. Kendall rouses again and I know I have to wrap up this conversation quickly. "Alright, this is gonna throw a dent in my reputation, but for you; I'll hold back, okay?"

"Thank you," Jo says.

"Mmm hmm..." I grumble. "Hey, can you stop by today with a bunch of notebooks?"

"Why?"  
>"So Kendall can writ down his thoughts, any memories...stuff like that," I explain.<p>

"Clever," Jo compliments. "I'll drop by sometime."

"Thanks."

"And, Logan?"

"What?"

"It feels _great _to have told you..."  
>"I know," I cut in. "Same here. I'll see you later." I hang up and reach back over Kendall to set the cell phone down. He groans and he turns on his back, facing up at me. His lucid green eyes are filled with brief reprieve and for a second, I wonder if he's forgotten <em>me<em>. "Kendall? Ah, um...you're awake."

Kendall blinks and says quietly, "Yeah."

"Did you sleep well?"

Kendall shudders and seems to disappear into another world for a moment. "I think I had I nightmare."

"You _think _you had a nightmare?" I ask, "What was it about?"

"Well, for one thing, it was blurry. I couldn't tell who was who; but there were shadows of people. I couldn't see them..." Kendall let's out a trembling breath. "But I could feel them. And they hurt me, Logan."

My blood went cold and something seemed to catch in my throat. All I could do was nod in a gesture for him to continue.

Kendall continues painfully, "No matter how many times I told them to stop...they'd just hit me...or worse..."

When I finally find my voice, I assure him, "They can't hurt you now. _They _would have to go through _me _to hurt you."

"I know." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch. "Are you going anywhere today?"

I did want to find Hawk eventually, seeing how he was the one to leave Kendall for dead. I could find him another time though. "No, but Jo is gonna stop by with those notebooks."

"Notebooks?"

"Oh, right; you can write down things in them to refer back to if you start forgetting."

"Right...I hate to keep you down here all day."

"I could say the same for you."

"Yeah, but I think you're just trying to protect me," Kendall says, "And I haven't been able to remember what fresh air was, so I don't think it's exactly worth missing for me."

I shake my head. "Don't say that."

Kendall shrugs and says, "You've just done so much for me, I'm starting to feel...a bit useless."

"Oh come on, you're not useless."

"That dream-nightmare seems to think otherwise. Oh, no-I'm not completely useless, but my only use is other people's sex-toy."

God, I was afraid of this. The least this brutal world could do was have him never remember his prostitute reality.

"Kendall...it was a nightmare; it may not have happened."

Kendall shakes his head and looks at me forlornly. "You don't have to pretend. I may not know where I come from...who I am exactly...or why I would let something like that happen to my body in the first place; but I remember it."

I was partially surprised he wasn't crying again, but it was a good thing. Seeing him cry was worse than having my heart ripped out, ran over three times by a truck, and then burned until there was nothing left but ashes.

"Alright, we just won't write that down in your notebook."

"No," he whispers. "It's a part of me; I'll record everything that could be my past."

"If you're sure," I say gently, "I just don't want you to get hurt...again..."

Kendall nods and admits, "Sometimes I question the universe even wants me to be alive. Apparently I'm not worth enough to remember anything of my past but the bad."

I scoot closer to him and caress my hand to his right cheek and turned him to face me. "Hundreds of people have memory loss and most of them forget just as much as you do. You're not the only one who's frustrated. But if the universe didn't want you around, then why are you here in the first place? You're a beautiful person, Kendall. I don't want to hear you say anything more of that again."

He nods again. Kendall doesn't pull back and I don't move my hand. I feel something terrifying and wonderful all at once and my heart beats faster than I ever thought possible. I'd denied feelings like these for so long, but after confessing to Jo, it was as if- although no one else knew- a great weight had been lifted from my chest.

His lips are soft against mine as we move in sync. My eyes close and for the first time in forever, I loose myself. People always say there are sparks when you kiss your 'one'…and I right now; I feel fireworks.

Just as suddenly as it happened, it stops.

"Logan, I-I'm so sorry," Kendall whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

"Don't be," I murmur in a daze, leaning forward again to press my mouth to his again, desperate to experience that same explosion of passion once more. When air becomes of need to us, we separate.

"Is this why you're taking such great care of me?" Kendall laughs lightheartedly.

"Not at first. I don't think. I wanted to fix you first; you were broken...mentally, physically...And I'm just the kind of person who denies any other emotion than the ones like bitter happiness, loneliness, fear..."

"Then I'm not the only one who needs fixing," Kendall says sympathetically.

"Th-that you aren't," I stammer, not sure of any other way to respond. I didn't need fixing. Honestly, I was fine the way I was. There was no other me I knew. Perhaps a trace of innocence could be found back in the days when Jo and I played in the streets, but even then I knew the nature of everything in Detroit...in Disturbia.

* * *

><p>I stand over the couch as Kendall writes in one of the notebooks. "Writing the nightmare?" I inquire.<p>

"Well, that," Kendall answers. "And...You know."

I lean forward, my chest pressing against the back of the furniture. "You'd write _that _in?"

"Of course," Kendall replies. "I'd rather die on the spot than forget it."

"I never really thought of a kiss being important like that," I admit. "But alright; what ever you say."

Kendall smiles and continues back with his writing. "Why, uh; why do you stay down here so much anyways?"

"I'm an indoor person," I say bluntly. "And, there's you."

"Of course," Kendall grumbles.

"What? I thought you freaked out when I left," I muse.

"I do...but you must have a life out of here. That's why you leave some times, I suppose."

"Let's just say...it's a part time job."

Kendall doesn't respond and I'm glad. I didn't have an explanation. Not yet. "Oh," Kendall says.

"So, uh...when you're done, do you mind if I read?"

"Sure," Kendall answers. Twenty more minutes pass before he hands me the open book. I take it and read the words out loud.

"Logan said I should write in a notebook and it's a good idea. I seem to forget a lot. I'm Kendall-or so Logan found out- and I have short term memory lose. I was saved by Logan from...well I don't know that either; maybe one day he'll let me know. He takes care of me and I trust him.

But that's something that has set in. Last night I had a nightmare. Colors hazed and whirred around me. Everything was impossible to make out; my own vision had felt so far gone. I was running, but it was like I wasn't moving. Shadows bounced off the walls, silhouettes loomed over me; their mechanical, diabolical, laughter taunting me. Then a solid shape, a person who had no face; gripped my hips and slammed me into the wall. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. And suddenly, pain rippled through my body. But the pain wasn't foreign, no-I definitely experienced it before. Where though? I tried to roll away from the man, but he hit me hard. Everything was black after that and I can not recall anything more but the pain and the blurred tormentors.

Waking up, I should have been a sobbing mess. Logan was here with me though. So, I didn't. But dreams often mean things, and the feeling of being ripped in two was familiar. That meant, whoever was... up there... was trying to tell me that my past was nothing but having sex I didn't want.

Then Logan told me I was beautiful...surprisingly enough, I didn't cry then. Something happened then. Something that I had forgotten. I forgot a lot but I wasn't even remembrance that this existed. When we kissed, there was far more than sparks, there was a far more intense sensation. Everything faded away. All my problems weren't there. It was insane, but when we kissed I didn't have anything to fear anymore.

I don't know if I'll spend the rest of my life down here, in Logan's seemingly hidden-away home; but if I do, I'm glad I'd be with him."

I let out a deep breath after finishing and glance at him with a warm smile. Kendall stares back at me and stutters, "I-I didn't k-know the date." He hands me the pencil and I scribble down on the top right of the page: **January, 11, 2012.**

"Thanks," Kendall says.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, hope u liked this...wow. yeah.<strong>

**Oh, and I apologize for the randomness of that date up there.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR**

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><p>"<em>...My road of good intentions led where such roads always lead..."<em>

_-_Elphaba Thropp, _Wicked: The Untold Story of the Wicked Witch of the West_

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><p><em>January 16, 2012<em>

_I wonder why Logan leaves. He does it often and I decided to record it here so I could remember to ask him about it. Maybe he has another person to look after. I don't like to think that, that is true; but it is a possibility. _

_We've kissed after the first time it happened, but it's him who kisses me...so what does that make us? The term of 'boyfriend' doesn't seem to fit in our situation so it cannot be that. What else would our 'relationship' be though? That is what I've been thinking about...Logan hasn't gotten the slightest idea either, I am sure of this. I believe he's happier though. Before, I could tell that something was weighing his; spirit if you will- down. Logan was much more guarded. Even more so than myself. You can always tell when someone has something to hide; no matter who you are. _

_Besides that, I have no more to write. I haven't recalled much of anything from my past. But, I hope I will so that I can have something else to build off of from the prostitute past. _

* * *

><p>I didn't read Kendall's entries all the time. He'd let me, of course, but a notebook or journal is personal. That makes it private, just the way it should be. I lean over the kitchen counter watching him write from the couch. Kendall must've noticed because he looked over at me, offering a small smile. He closes the notebook and sets it down on the coffee table.<p>

"Hey," Kendall says in his hushed way. "Do you have to go anywhere?"

Honestly, I didn't. However, I needed to track down Hawk. And I'm sure that when Lucy finds out I'm not really doing anything about her request, she'll go ballistic.

"No, I'll stay here," I told him. "But I do, although, have plans for another day."

"And what would those be?"

I walk around the counter and to the couch. "Another time," I sigh, sitting next to him. There are some things about me Kendall is obviously better off never finding out. He shrugs and nods as if to say it didn't matter. I know it does though. We've seemed to switch as in, now it is him who has to be concerned over whether I trust him or not.

Neither of us says anything, silently appreciating each other's company. Now that I've become so used to Kendall living with me, I never realized how lonely I was before. Finally Kendall inquires, "What's it like outside? I uh; sorry if I already asked that before."

That happened often. Kendall would repeat questions even if he wrote the answers down. I would never tell him he repeated anything. "Since we live in the city the air isn't as clear as it is in the country," I explain. "I suppose you could picture any city because I don't think Detroit is much different. One real stand-out difference"- well, for me anyways- "Is the alleyways are full of twists and turns, you won't ever know where you'll end up."

"How about at night?"

I close my eyes and lean back. There wasn't much I paid attention to at night. At least, the only time I went out at night I was too occupied with... "You can't see the stars," I mumble. "The buildings block out space in the sky and the street lights...everything would make it too difficult anyways."

I feel Kendall shift beside me. "Where could we see the stars?"

"There are a lot of places, and I'm sure if you went to the rooftop of one of the skyscrapers you'd see them; but...I've never left Detroit so why should I be so sure?" When I open my eyes again I see Kendall examining me thoughtfully.

"So...you'll never leave?" Kendall questioned, "aren't you worried you'll never get anywhere in life if you stay in one place?"

A little too late. If I leave Detroit I'll have nothing to go to. But I don't tell him that because it will spark questions I don't want to answer. "It depends. I've my life ahead of me," I say.

"Do you think I could have a future?" Asks Kendall.

I smile at him and assure, "I'm sure you will." Kendall will be fine; he doesn't have a criminal record. I'd find a way to make a life for him some day. Kendall's eyes seem to flicker to a shade of spring green. He leans forward but pauses about a centimeter or two from my lips. "What?" I say softly.

"You usually...you usually make the first move," Kendall admits, cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

"Then...go ahead," I press, eyes closing again, I wait. Though I can't see him, I can feel the hesitation by the way Kendall tenses. I move my hands to his waist and he leans forward. It made sense for him to be nervous, but he honestly had nothing to be concerned over. Our kisses thus far never consisted of teeth and tongue; we weren't _there _yet, but I think I prefer it that way.

How do you know when you 'love' someone? I can't love Kendall yet, we've only been together for a week and we aren't necessarily considering ourselves partners yet. I've heard stories of love at first sight and of that undying feeling towards someone...a someone who you'd do anything for.

Certainly there was this affect of a protective gravitational pull to keep Kendall safe, but would I really do anything for him?

Now, if I had something to resent of Kendall-this was it. I hated the way it was him to blame over how I would second guess myself now; how I would question the smallest of actions, like if I would leave the door of my bedroom open or close. Would closing it give Kendall the sense I was blocking him out? Would keeping it open give him permission to be closer than I intended us to be? Agh! I swear this is worse than my sentence in The Secret Annexe 2.0

Sometime during the week I had intended to call Jo and ask her bring more food, but somehow I ended up revealing that Kendall and I had kissed and she went on and on about how wonderful this was for me. Somewhere amongst the never-ending rants of congratulations, Jo managed to calm herself enough to warn me of how love would make you crazy in your own ways depending on who you were personally.

Was I going crazy?

In my book, indeed I was.

"Are you okay?" Kendall asks in concern.

I open my eyes again. I didn't even realize the kiss stopped. Did I stop kissing back? Or did Kendall sense my mind was elsewhere and retract? "Yeah, I'm fine," I assure.

Kendall blinks skeptical eyes at me but doesn't debate it. I almost let a sigh of relief escape.

* * *

><p><em>Logan's told me of the outside in Detroit. If I haven't confided it yet, that is where we are. Detroit, Michigan. Logan said that the air wasn't as clear as the country due to the fact we lived in the city. He explained that stars were hard to find, but for me; stars are a vague memory, so I don't know if it should matter for or not…they engross me though. Logan's never left Detroit but someday, I'd like to think we'll go together somewhere with open skies. He did say he had his whole life ahead of him. I wonder; would he ever include me in that near or distant future? <em>

_Oh! I almost forgot- Logan mentioned the alleyways were strange. Maybe he didn't use the word 'strange' but I think they sound it. They're full of twists and turns, he said. I changed the subject quickly there, something about it made me uneasy, but I was sure to hide that well enough that Logan wouldn't even see a glimmer of it. _

_But, I think it might be a bit selfish to fret with myself; it's all too obvious Logan has something going on himself. Like me, it's a mental struggle. Although, maybe Logan can control what ever is going on with him. While we were kissing after the talk of the outside, he seemed to stop. Not because he wasn't appreciating it, but he felt distant. Though his eyes were closed, I could recognize his thoughts were drowning him. I do a lot of thinking, so that's how I knew. I'd like to help him like he's helping me, I guess._

* * *

><p>I don't know how long I lay awake in my bed until I realized there was no freaking way I was getting any sleep. So I shoved back the covers and grabbed my gray hoodie from the end of the bed, slipping it on. I silently cursed Jo for taking away my 'collection' of knives. She felt it would 'kill' the temptation. Did she not know how talented I was with my ability to murder with bare hands; I'm surprised actually that Jo hadn't yet mentioned to me about what happened to that woman Kelly Wainwright. Perhaps she was yet to catch it on the news.<p>

I didn't let it occupy my mind for too long, for where I was going I needed to keep everything icy-cold inside of me and let the scheme consume any fragment of a conscience that was left. For a brief moment the thought of Kendall awakening in alarm battled for dominance but eventually the more brutal of the thoughts ruled. Actually, thinking of Kendall only fueled the other deliberation.

By the time I had walked a good distance down the street and away from the hideout, I began to wonder where I would find him…

Hawk.

He was a criminal, sure but I doubt he'll be in the same bar Jeremy was. Would I have to search in a real bar? The risk if I had too; was it seriously worth it?

Then a remember when I found Kendall in the alleyway. It seemed like an impossible dream that he'd be doing so well so soon. I think I may even be considering thanking Jeremy for indirectly telling me who left Kendall in the alley. Obviously I'd come up with a different reason.

That didn't matter now. Since I had no way to locate Hawk, or to even be sure he was out tonight; I would pop into any bar I found, scour briefly, then leave and find another to search. The first saloon I located was called: _Vinum Taberna_. In Latin- because Jo insisted I make myself useful during hiding and learn something- meant, 'Wine Inn'. Now, how would I approach this? Option one was to burst in and be noticed completely. Option two was to carefully and quietly sneak about until I found my victim.

Option one would be quicker.

Option two could take up to an hour.

Huh. Okay.

When I reach _Vinum Taberna _I burst through the door and shove past anyone who would dare to stop me. I speed blindly to the bar and rip a beer glass from a man whose appearance I don't bother to take note of. Then I shoulder my way to a stage located at the far back wall. Currently all that stands there are three microphone stands, a drum set, and a guitar without owners. I pull myself up onto the stage and slam the glass bottle down onto the wood. The adults all let out a chorus of startled shouts and gasps. They glare up at me. I say nothing. All I do is examine the crowd for the egotistical scowl of the man who calls himself Hawk.

"Hey, isn't that Logan Mitchell!" One of the men bellows. Damn...Even if I wanted to back down and run, they've begun to catch on.

"I thought he was sent to some foreign prison!" Another exclaims.

"No! So the rumors are true; it's him who killed that lady!" A third added.

"Ha! He's not as frightening as everyone says!" The first man sneers. I bristle at that comment and my gaze flickers down to the shards of glass. He says, "I wonder what kind a reward we'd be given for turning the big bad Logan Mitchell in?"

The guy next to him reaches over and pats his back. He chuckles cruelly, "Ah, c'mon. Doesn't Nathan Knight have enough money?"

That caught my interest. Suddenly my heart beats faster. They notice my sudden curiosity. The man on the other side of 'Nathan Knight' hisses, "Nathan's work has brought him to wealth a juvenile delinquent like you will never have!"

I clench my jaw and ask as threateningly as possible, "What kind of 'work' is this?"

Nathan Knight exchanged glances with his cohorts before moving through the crowd until he stood at the stage, looking up at me.

Something about his eyes...

"Now, I don't usually go telling amateurs like you my secrets," Nathan says in a mockingly calm ton. Amateur, he called me an _amateur! _Once more, I glimpse at the broken bottle. Nathan continues, "But, since we're gonna turn you in anyways..." A wicked smile stretches across his face. "Maybe before I had financial problems but I took care of that real quick, the wife didn't like it and split; but that doesn't matter when I have more money than my own good...Alright; I'll cut to chase." He raises his hands up as if sacrificing himself to a cop. "I sell my son, Kendall."

Everything inside me is frozen; my heart turned completely to stone. If there was any self control left, it is no more. In a swift movement; I reach down, grab a shard of glass and lunge at Nathan. He falls backward and before he can push me away, I slice his neck. Oh, but I wasn't finished there. I continue to assault him by cutting into his face, arms, and chest; enjoying the screams emitting from his throat. His blood splatters my hands, staining my fingertips in scarlet.

I must have ice in my soul...but, I always have so why does it bother me now? The doubt is immediately shoved to the back of my mind and with a smile that must be a hundred times more unpleasant than that of the Grinch; I lean down and whisper into his ear, "Call me amateur again." Nathan's eyes widen to an impossible size and they stare off somewhere unreachable. He opens his mouth to speak but all that spurts up from his throat are bright red drops. "Exactly what I thought," I growl.

And when he fades away into heaven, Hell-I could care less-I get up and back away from him. The glass is still gripped in my fingers. Now _this _was far greater than locating Hawk. Glancing around; I view the once criticizing faces of the grown men, now looking on in alarm. I smirk, pleased over the fact that I now had the upper hand. Someone would call the police. Would I dare stay around and wait for them to do so?

If Kendall wasn't in the picture I believe I would.

"You killed him!" the man who had been standing Nathan coughs out.

I casually toss the blood-stained piece of glass from hand to hand. "No, I was reenacting _the Hunger Games." _I slip the glass into my jeans pocket. "Now that, that is done; I've better things to do than hang around here." A path seemed to part for me as I headed for the exit. This, on top of Kelly Wainwright, Jo is sure to figure it out eventually; and when she does, well I guess that means I'm in a shit load of trouble. Right now, I could care less.

What luck I had been brought by on the first tavern finding the one who put Kendall in that pain to begin with. Perhaps, no matter what sins condemn me, God or whoever is up there; was by my side on this one.

Once I read in a book, _Everlost_- again, Jo's idea entirely- that 'a brave man's life is worth a thousand cowardly souls'. Perhaps, Kendall is the brave one and all those who tormented him, the cowardly. It was infuriating to think that it was a possibility Kendall was abused by a thousand. But maybe I could make it a mission to track them all down.

* * *

><p><em>I should be asleep right now, but so much is on my mind still. There are still questions, still ideas conjuring over how I can help Logan in return.<em>

_The questions are selfish, so bare with me._

_Question 1: What does music sound like? Logan sings to me, but what does it sound like with an orchestra of instruments tuned in with it?_

_Question 2: The outdoors-again- do they really vary from city and country?_

_Question 3: _Can _Logan take me out? It's something I want if it is not an attainable desire?_

_And the other questions; well they seem to be gone like most of my thoughts. _

_As for Logan, he's harder to crack than me. Yes, we trust each other; but is it truly trust when we keep things from each other? I've nothing to keep that I can remember, but there is something strange about Logan. I won't interrogate him; that is the worst possible thing to do. The best way to approach this is to remain close, wait until the moment is right..._

* * *

><p>The first thing I see when I open the door is Kendall sitting up on the couch writing something in his notebook. His gaze is startled, but he seems tranquil enough.<p>

"Hey, Kendall," I say in a placating voice. "I jut went out for a quick stroll, I hope you weren't afraid."

Kendall shut the book. Instead of putting it on the coffee table, he hid it under the pillow of the couch. "I'm alright. I believe I hadn't noticed you gone."

"Good," I sigh, walking over to him. "Do you think you can fall back asleep?"  
>Kendall shrugs. "It's always hard to determine that, you know."<p>

"Mmm..." I murmur, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Okay, uh; can I help? Do you want a drink of water? Midnight snack?"

Kendall shakes his head and whispers, "It would be nice if you could sing for me again; a refresher I guess. I wish I could remember your singing, but it's so hard to, and one's voice is complicated to describe for a person who has a very limited memory span."

"Yeah, I understand," I respond. Again, I search for a song that would be worthy of a lullaby. When the song is selected from the short album stored in mind, I begin, "_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? You've been out riding fences for so long now... Oh, you're a hard one, but I know you've got your reasons; these things that are pleasing you, can hurt you somehow...Don't you draw the queens of diamonds, boy, she'll beat you if she's able; you know the queen of hearts was always your best bet...Now it seems to me some fine things, have been laid upon your table, but you only want the one's that you can't get..." _

There was something about this song that struck close to home with me. It was as if the Eagles had been thinking of someone like me when they were writing it. But, I kept the wildfire of emotions extinguished, because it wasn't about me. I continue with a slightly cracking voice, "_Desperado, oh you ain't getting no younger; your pain and your hunger, they're driving you home...and freedom, oh freedom, that's just some people talking; your prison is walking through this world all alone..."_

Kendall stares up at me tiredly, but he smiles empathetically as if knowing what is going on in my head.

There is a peculiar sensation pushing at the back of my eyes. I think its tears. "_...Don't your feet get cold in the winter time? The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine; Its hard to tell the nighttime from the day...you're losing all your highs and lows, ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?...Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? Come down from your fence...it may be raining, but there's a rainbow above you; you better let somebody love you, you better let somebody love you, how you better let somebody love you...before it's too late..."_

Instead of asleep, Kendall is struggling to keep awake. I sigh, "Kendall, sleep."

He says, sounding heavily sedated, "Can you record...can you...record the...the, uh..."

"I'll write the song in your notebook, sure," I cut him off, trying not to grin at how Kendall was speaking in his drunken articulation.

"Thanks," Kendall mumbles, allowing himself to be overcome by sleep. I lean forward, and kiss his forehead before reaching for the notebook and pen. It takes much more willpower than I would think to not read the other writing of the day. Not only that, but I also reluctantly pushed back the desire to pour out my own emotions. The knowledge that I murdered Kendall's father weighed heavy in both positive and negative approaches.

* * *

><p><em>This is Logan, writing briefly for Kendall (you!) who is asleep and wished that I tell of my singing. Its something I do for you to help you sleep. On the very first night I brought you to my home I sang you and it worked well enough. <em>

_The song I sang to you tonight is called "Desperado" by the Eagles. It reminded me more of myself though. _

_Nevermind; I'll write the lyrics and leave you to sleep..._

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><p>When I finished my entry; I set the notebook back down. Then, before I went to my room, I kiss his lips lightly so he doesn't awaken. A part of me wants to stay with him, while the other part is vaguely annoyed because I'm not sleeping. So the moment I reach my bed, I'm out...<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own BTR, but if I did I would immediately move their show to ABCFamily or FOX so that there actually could be a boyxboy relationship ;)**

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><p>"<em>...I've had so many friends, but only one that mattered"<em>

-Galinda 'Glinda' Upland to Elphaba Thropp, _Wicked (A New Musical): The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz_

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><p><em>January 21, 2012<em>

_Just this morning I was thinking-which I'm not too sure I do often- about my earlier times with Logan. I believe I was a mute back then, or if not to that extent, a man of few words. But anyways, it's ridiculous how I couldn't trust him back then, it's not like he is some heinous criminal or anything..._

_Fragment memories of our first nights were few and in between and when I asked Logan for details I couldn't help but blush. Shit, I do believe I sound like a young girl right now, but never mind that. That first night I think I was beyond helpless due to wounds and couldn't do much of anything so Logan helped to clean the injuries. When I say 'clean' yes I mean in a bath tub with soap and water. Vaguely, I remember Logan telling me it wouldn't be awkward because we were both guys but I can imagine now he was just being coy. _

_Due to how traumatized I still was, the ritual was repeated for about a week more. The exact facts of those nights are lost somewhere in my mind and I don't wish to become a nuisance, so I will not ask anymore of the events._

_Why I am writing now is, one: I need to so I don't forget anything (which is obvious but every reminder counts) and two: Logan had to leave for a bit to meet with his friend Jo to 'discuss something important.'_

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><p>It was riskier than ever being out here in the open streets of Detroit. With Lucy probably on a rage that I wasn't fulfilling her request and two deaths of my doing, the probability of being caught by someone had significantly increased. I never used to fear the police finding me. But when I think of Kendall- poor, innocent Kendall- and what could happen to him I did not return; it kept me on the edge.<p>

Jo called me early this morning wanting me to come to her apartment immediately. There was something in the ton of her voice that was distressed...and on a much deeper level, flooding with self-loathing. Kendall was awake so I told him that I needed to see Jo to discuss something important that couldn't be put on hold and with a dangerous amount of faith he asked nothing.

By the time I reach _Outlook Heights, _many people are beginning to grace the street. The key to sneaking up into Jo's apartment was to be as casual as possible. This way, anyone in the lobby would dismiss me as an average visitor. Once, as I waited intolerantly for the elevator, the receptionist glanced over at me from his paperwork. I catch him looking over at me and greet lightly, "Hi."  
>He nods and says in a monotone voice, "Elevators broken, you're gonna have to take the stairs."<p>

I aim a wide smile at him and adjust my sunglasses before turning and walking over to the stairwell. It isn't often that I go to Jo's apartment so I'm curious as to what she has to say. When I locate her room I knock on the wood as normally as a regular non-criminal person would.

"Who's there?" Jo's muffled voice asks.

"Who do you think?" I reply. There is the clanking of the door being unlocked before she is standing in front of me. Her gentle brown eyes are drenched in sorrow and from the way she's clad in only sweatpants and a tank-top, dirty blonde hair a snarled mess; I can tell she hasn't been doing much of anything.

"Come in," Jo sighs.

"You usually just come over to my home," I say, walking inside.

"Well, I couldn't risk having Kendall hear," Jo sighs, closing the door again before gesturing for me to sit on the couch in the center of apartment. Once we were both sitting down, I patiently awaited for her to speak. "She's pregnant," Jo mutters, sounding as if it was poison on her tongue.

"Camille?" I inquire.

"Yes, Camille," Jo grumbles. "It's Jett's baby. Lucy found that out for me and...She also figures by now you're not going to anything and warned me she's taking things into her own hands."

"You didn't want anything bad to happen to Camille...uh, or Jett, right?"

"No!" Jo snaps. "Lucy twists words around! She took the deal I made with her and spun it so that it would benefit her own murderous needs."

Maybe this was why Jo didn't know of the people I recently killed. She was too occupied with her own issue. "And...I suppose you're afraid she'll do something to harm the baby?" I muse.

"Yes, but..." Jo hesitates as if she is ashamed. "It hurts to know she'll never be mine." She smiles sadly at me and I wonder how she can be so disappointed over losing someone she hardly knows. How can Jo be so troubled over a girl who she could never possibly end up with? But then I think of Kendall. I think of how he makes me feel so human again, and I understand her pain. My arms wrap around her slender body and I keep her in my embrace, letting her cry quietly into my neck. After a few minutes of our silent communication, Jo has gathered her bearings well enough to speak again. "I won't be able to forgive myself if I sit back and let something happen to Camille's baby," Jo whispers, breathe tickling my neck.

"Stone's trouble but she's all bark and no bite. She bluffs. You shouldn't have to be worried," I assure, but I know what I'm telling Jo is a lie. It's something I don't like to think about often. I'll deny it again and again by shooting Lucy down, but there is no getting around the fact that if something happened to me, Lucy would assume command of the Disturbia criminal society.

"Liar," my blonde friend accuses.

I shrug and state, "I still have those profiles. Do you want them? Or should I, you know, put them in a shredder."

"Give them to me," Jo answers at once, pulling back from the hug. "I'll get them back to Camille."

"Jo," I say evenly, "Don't make excuses to see someone you're trying to forget. It'll do you no good."

Jo whips her eyes with the back of her hand. "Logan, let me handle this," she pleas.

And because of the way her brown eyes are containing the same kind of heartrending sadness that Kendall's emerald ones hold, I agree, "I'll give them to you some time."

"Thank you." Then, after a few seconds, she points out, "You've changed."

"Changed?" I snort.

"You're kinder. More sensitive, less bitter," Jo says amiably.

"Is that a good thing?"

Jo blinks and answers, "Yes, of course it's a good thing." She is looking into my eyes when she says, "You love him. Don't you."

"Let's not go there," I warn.

"But you do, Logan," Jo exclaims, "Don't you dare tell me you haven't got strong feelings for that boy."

I close my eyes and behind my eyelids I see Kendall bleeding in an alleyway with me by his side, waiting for Jo to arrive. I see me singing him to sleep for the first time. I see everything that made my feelings burn brighter.

I know I've to stop fighting it.

"Okay," I sigh, opening my eyes. "I love him, Jo. I'd kill for him...In fact I...I already did."

"What!" Jo hisses.

"It was his father."

"Logan-"

"Just listen. That Jeremy guy told me about his _cousin _Kendall whose father sold him to make money. Jeremy said Kendall had been missing ever since Hawk rented him out." I have to take a deep breath before continuing, "I was going to find Hawk and teach him a lesson but instead I was presented with the opportunity to vanquish the man who put Kendall through it all in the first place."

It takes Jo a while for everything to sink in. When it does she says quietly, "Now you want to find everyone who ever hurt Kendall. Don't you?"

"You know me so well," I mutter.

"Logan. I know you care about Kendall, but you can't give him the world."  
>"Exactly. Which is why I'm doing everything I can for him!"<br>Jo shakes her head. "Someone is going to report you!"

"No. They won't be stupid enough as to do that," I state, more or less saying it to convince myself.

Jo reaches forward and tightly grips my shoulders. "Logan, you have to promise me you won't kill anyone anymore. Being in hiding _does_ mean you can't go off murdering people."

"Ugh..." I groan. "Jo..."

"Logan, promise me," she says in a commanding ton that I'd never imagine her to have.

And taking advantage of Jo's belief in my new image, I tell her, "I promise."

Then she nods and smiles in triumph. "Thank you, Logan," Jo says.

I'm a bit surprised she actually bought the lie, but I don't let my shock show. Knowing I'll have to get back to Kendall soon, I rise to my feet. "I'll call you later," I say and Jo gets up as well to open the door. Just before she closes it, I add quickly, "I almost forgot that after I spoke with Lucy, I was all pissed so I strangled some random woman, bye!"

"Wha-"

I reach forward and pull the door closed before Jo can protest. "_Later_!" I laugh.

"We're discussing this!" Jo exclaims from the other side.

But her words are lost in the sudden swell in my heart I have from finally admitting out loud that I love Kendall. It's almost more liberating than when I allowed myself to accept my sexuality.

When I return, Kendall is searching though the fridge. He glances over when I close the door. "Hey, Logan," Kendall says. "Where were you? No! Wait!" He closes the fridge and bounds over to the coffee table and grabs the notebook resting on its surface. Kendall flips through the pages, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I'm about to say something when his eyes light up. "How was your 'important thing'?" Kendall asks.

"Uh, fine," I reply. Kendall nods, accepting the answer, and puts the notebook down again. I walk over to him and press a soft kiss to his right cheek before motioning for him to sit down. "I went to talk with Jo. Uh, Jo's my-"

"You're friend," Kendall says, pride in his voice for remembering.

I smile and nod. "Well, Jo was having some personal problems, but we talked it out. She'll be okay."

"Well, that's good," Kendall exclaims.

"Yeah..." I suddenly find my heart thundering inside my chest. This is it. I want to tell him now. I've come too far to keep my emotions hunkered down from Kendall. "Kendall, I need you to listen for a bit."

"Okay."

"When I first found you, in that alleyway, I felt...different. Different in a good way though. Then, as I was washing the blood away, seeing all of your scars made me want to protect you. I don't know why, I hadn't known you at all." I took in a deep breath, exhaled, then continued, "The more time I spent with you, the more I came to the conclusion of what those feelings meant."

Kendall moved his gaze up and down in genuine interest. "And what was that conclusion?"

"I...I love you, Kendall."

When he doesn't react, the crushing feeling of pure humiliation begins to take over. But then Kendall's eyes are watering and in a half a second, his lips have crashed into mine. I wrap my arms around his body and pull him against me.

"I don't remember what love feels like," Kendall confesses when we part, "But it...I think that...I think it's something like this." He brings his hands up to the back of my neck, bring me closer.

"To be honest; I don't know love all that well either," I say. "Maybe we can learn together."

Kendall smiles. "I wouldn't want it any other way." We both lean in and kiss again.

Clouded by these intoxicating moments, it almost seems possible to be human instead of someone so ghastly, they belong no where.

* * *

><p>Love<p>

Can drive a person insane

Hate

Can drive a person to murder

Fear

Can drive a person into isolation

Emotions

Can tear a person apart

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><p>But here I am feeling all three at once as I lay on the couch, Kendall pressed against the couch cushions beneath me. I didn't want to think about how this was going to fast; I didn't want to consider how this could very well be pushing too far. All that mattered to me in this intimate moment was when we kissed, all the problems that had ever etched there way into my mind smoothed over as if they never happened.<p>

The love: Something I once believed I felt for Jo but soon found was just a cruel trick of the mind. A romantic form of love would never be for us. But what overpowered my heart whenever I was with Kendall; _that _was the love I so often found myself conflicted over.

The hate: But my friendship love towards Jo led me to murder a man which set the path for many more crimes to follow. My affections towards Kendall brought me to despise anyone who hurt him which had the power to turn my focuses to tracking down hoards of people to kill...

The fear: Something that naturally follows love. It is the very fact that you feel so strongly for someone that terrifies you. It's the knowledge that this person whom you care so deeply for could be both your salvation and your undoing.

In between desperate kisses, Kendall says, "There was. Something. I wanted. To ask. You…"

"Mmm, hmm?" I move off of him and he reaches for his notebook again.

I keep Kendall in my arms as he finds the entry. "What does music sound like? And the outdoors...would it ever be possible for me to see it again? The questions crossed my mind and I didn't want to forget to ask."

"Huh," I say. "How about this-I'll find I way to get you real music." That'll be easy. I can ask Jo if I can borrow her portable stereo. The second however... I'd need to be careful. But for Kendall...I'd already kill someone for his sake, I can manage scrounging a car to drive him out to see the world he's forgotten. "And I think I can arrange for you to see...outside."

Kendall's grin widens and he curls into my side and begins to write at a furious pace. With my arm around his waist, I watch him with an amused smirk.

For once in my life, things are okay.

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><p><em>Logan loves me. Me! Problematic me...It's an amazing feeling, 'love.' Everything inside me felt so light when he told me. There was a fluttering sensation in my stomach and I don't want it to go away.<em>

_Everything just get's better from there. Logan's going to find a way to help me hear real music and he'll try to arrange a time for me to emerge from home. Maybe I'll love it out there, maybe I'll hate it. Considering my only past I can manage to hold, I should be terrified. But with Logan, I don't think I have to be scared. Not anymore..._

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><p><strong>Now we can really get into the relationship, am I right? =)<strong>


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